


The Broken Things We Fight For

by SunshineOnACloudyDay



Series: The Lone Wolf, The Philanderer, and the Ashen Demon [3]
Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Angst, Ashen Wolves join the party, Azure Moon route with a twist, Background Relationships, Explicit Language, Female My Unit | Byleth, Goddess blessed Byleth, Hurt No Comfort, I hate tags, It's Agonizing Really, Mild Sexual Content, Minor My Unit | Byleth/Claude von Riegan, Minor Yuris Leclair | Yuri Leclerc/My Unit | Byleth, My Unit | Byleth Has Emotions, Other, POV Multiple, Polyamory Negotiations, Sad Sylvain Jose Gautier, Slow Burn, felix is an idiot, like the slowest burn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-08-19
Updated: 2021-02-26
Packaged: 2021-03-06 01:28:16
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 33
Words: 299,372
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25985140
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SunshineOnACloudyDay/pseuds/SunshineOnACloudyDay
Summary: Azure Moon with a TWSITD twist. There will be spoilers for other routes along the way.Character tags will be updated as the story continues.Byleth has woken up to a war torn Fodlan and battle hardened students. She's supposed to be the acting Archbishop, but she's hardly qualified for the things people are expecting from her. What is she? And what are these strange images and dreams?Felix had completely given up on Byleth, only to find out that she and the boar were alive the whole time. Can he handle the weight of his guilt as he fights to end this war?Sylvain's life keeps shifting around him as he tries to pick up the broken pieces. War is an ugly thing... can he get those he cares about through it unscathed?There will be angst. There will be fluff. There will be confusion. Byleth asks more questions, and finds more answers. Basically this is my fix it for Azure Moon, because I love it but there are way too many plot holes for my liking. Also writing these summaries is always ridiculously hard. I promise the story will be better... hopefully.
Relationships: Felix Hugo Fraldarius/My Unit | Byleth, Felix Hugo Fraldarius/Sylvain Jose Gautier, Felix Hugo Fraldarius/Sylvain Jose Gautier/My Unit | Byleth, Sylvain Jose Gautier/My Unit | Byleth
Series: The Lone Wolf, The Philanderer, and the Ashen Demon [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1825147
Comments: 319
Kudos: 159





	1. Reunion at Dawn (Part 1)

**Author's Note:**

> Notice that I left the relationship tags the same...
> 
> This story is obviously about the relationship between these three, within the Azure Moon route. The relationships WILL be complicated and messy because my characters have the emotional intelligence of a carrot and they are fighting a freaking war.
> 
> That is all.

~Byleth~

**“You… how long do you intend to sleep?”** Byleth’s mind was still hazy as she began to stir. Her whole body ached and fatigue felt like a physical weight on top of her. **“Your body is awake. Your eyes must open now, and you must find the strength to stand upon those legs of yours.”**

**“Like so much rain, a pool of blood has fallen to the ground… As spears and arrows pierce the earth, it weeps. And even now… it weeps. In order to survive they kill. And so, the people of this world are lost in an abyss of suffering. They weep as well. The only one who truly knows the nature of such things, is I… or rather, you."**

_“…Sothis?”_

Sothis sighed heavily. **“You made a promise, Byleth. Your lion cubs are waiting for you, and they have been waiting for far too long.”**

_“My Lions!”_

Her eyes snapped open and when she tried to breathe, her lungs were immediately filled with water. She flailed blindly, trying to find which end was up, but her armor and sword were heavy and her limbs were still fatigued. A hand grabbed her wrist, and she began to drift in the direction that she could only hope was up. She broke the surface of the water and coughed out the water in her lungs as someone dragged her to shore.

She rolled up onto her knees, still coughing up too much water as her lungs heaved for air. Her limbs felt so heavy, it was so similar to the feeling of when she uses Divine Pulse too many times in battle. 

The memory of the battle flashed through her mind and she immediately tried to stand, but wobbled on weak legs. The man who pulled her from the water grabbed each of her arms and helped her to standing. His tone was something close to fearful disbelief as he cried, “Woah, there! Are you alright? I can’t believe you’re awake! I saw a huge flash of green light and I rushed over to see what was going on…” He furrowed his brow and looked her over more carefully. “What in the eternal flames happened to you?”

She glanced around and tried to figure out where she was. She thought she vaguely recognized the village off in the distance, but it was hard to tell as the sky was getting darker and darker with the setting sun. “Where am I?” Her voice rasped like she hadn’t spoken in days. She cleared her throat heavily and the man was kind enough to offer his waterskin which she took with a nod of gratitude.

“We’re in a village at the base of the monastery.” How did I get down here? “What are you doing in a place like this? I hardly expected to find someone floating down the river. Garreg Mach is upstream of this place, but that place was abandoned.”

Her voice was a little clearer as she asked, “Abandoned? What do you mean abandoned?”

Confusion was etched across his face as he looked her over again. “You mean you don’t know? The Church of Seiros isn’t there anymore. Though, there have been some folks still living there in the past five years since… Well, you know.” Her breathing stopped short as he shook his head with a weary sigh. “Anyway, I’ve heard some thieves have been spotted around those parts these days.”

Her voice wavered as she asked, “Did you just say five years?” Her head was spinning as her breathing began to become more and more erratic. When all she received was another look of confusion she pleaded, “What year is it?”

“Um, are you feeling alright? You didn’t hit your head or anything, did you? It’s the Ethereal Moon of the year 1185. It’s been nearly five years since the monastery fell.” Her hands began to shake as she tried to steady her breathing, but the panic she felt threatened to crush her. 

_“Five years?! Sothis! What is he talking about, five years?!”_ The goddess that used to dwell in her head gave her no reply, and she couldn’t feel her as she searched the depths of her mind. _This can’t be real… this can’t be real…_

The villager shook his head wearily, seeming to not notice her panicked state. “Tomorrow was supposed to be the millennium festival, but who’s got time to think about things like that?”

She murmured, “The millennium festival…” The memory of eating dinner with her Lions after the White Heron Cup played in the back of her mind as she tried to take a step forward. Her legs felt a little steadier now, but her muscles were still aching.

“Uh, yeah, that’s what I said. But with the war and the archbishop still missing and all… I doubt there’s a soul to be found who has enough blessing worth counting.” 

_Rhea’s missing?_ The sound of the Immaculate One’s roars as she fell rang in her ears. She took more cautious steps upstream, in the direction of the spires of the monastery nestled within the mountains. The man called out, “Hey! Slow down, will ya?! Where do you think you’re going?”

“I have to get to the monastery.”

He ran to her side and grabbed her arm. “Are you crazy?! I just told ya! They say thieves are running amok up there, and there’s plenty of other dangers, too. I heard a rumor that Imperial troops went up there to investigate and got slaughtered. Every last one of them! Good riddance, I say, but you shouldn’t be going up there by yourself.”

She pulled her arm away and continued walking. The man sighed and called to her again. “Come on, I won’t say you’re a coward or anything. You should just forget about going anywhere near the monastery. Come back to the village with me. We’ll give you a place to stay and get you cleaned up. You look awful!” 

The only response she gave was a shake of her head as she continued walking. She could hear the man’s sigh before he said, “Just remember I tried to stop you. It’s not on my conscience if you wind up dead!”

She pulled the Sword of the Creator from her belt, and it glowed and thrummed with energy. “You don’t need to worry about me.” The man didn’t say anything more as she continued walking forward. She whispered to herself, “My students are waiting for me. I have a promise to keep.”

_Are they even alive? Were they able to get out before Edelgard seized the monastery?_ The thought sent a shiver through her as she continued her walk upstream, though it may have been the fact that her clothes and hair were still wet. She’s was getting closer, but the sun had long since set and her legs ached from the little distance she had walked so far. She summoned a fire spell to her palm, desperately searching for any sort of cover where she could potentially rest for a while.

She walked into a nearby grove of trees and collapsed against one, still clutching the Sword of the Creator in her hand. _Oh goddess… do they think I’m dead? Felix, Sylvain, Claude, Dimitri… The Eagles, my Lions, the Deer… Seteth and Flayn…_ Her chest ached as her eyes fluttered closed. _I’ll just rest for a few hours, then I’ll keep walking. I have to see everything for myself._

Even with the exhaustion she felt through every muscle of her body, sleep would not come. Her mind raced throughout the night, providing the worst scenarios as she stared up at the starry sky. She set off again as the early morning light started to filter through the trees. Her body still ached, and she was absolutely starving, but the unnerving thoughts in her head spurned her toward the answers she desperately needed.

Shortly after she found the main road again, she came across the town just outside the wall of the monastery proper. It was in complete ruin as she crept around the edge of town. Voices shouted from within and she could see rogues with armor and weapons standing guard near a fire. She slipped past them, unwilling to fight anyone in the state she was currently in.

Her breath hitched in her throat when she reached the gate of the old marketplace. Everything was in ruins, stalls had been smashed, and everything reeked of decay. _It really has been five years… the man wasn’t lying._ She first walked toward the Entrance Hall, but stopped and decided to walk around toward the dorms instead. She needed answers, and that seemed to be the place she was most likely to find them. 

She immediately noticed that the fishing pond was filthy, and the old fishing shack was in a state of disrepair. She could already see that the doors to the dining hall were hanging on their hinges. Her stomach growled at the thought of food, and she walked up the stairs to peek inside. Everything had been looted. The tables were mostly fine, though some of the chairs had been smashed. She walked behind the counter, hoping for anything that might tide her over until she had the strength to find supplies, but she was immediately disappointed. All of the shelves were completely empty, all that remained was trash littered all over the floor.

Her stomach growled again and she sighed. “I’ll have to find supplies elsewhere. Perhaps I should have gone back with that man. At least I could have begged for some supplies. I should have been smarter about this.” Her whisper went unanswered in the empty dining hall. She couldn’t help but notice that everything was eerily silent. “And now I’m talking to myself.” 

_The green house! Maybe there’s something edible there!_ She left the dining hall and walked in the direction of the greenhouse. She opened the door and her eyes widened at the dead plants that were scattered in the dried earth. _If anyone has been here in the last five years, they weren’t even attempting to grow food supplies._

She walked in the direction of her room, with her weapon drawn before her and her ears strained for any sort of sound. The man had said that thieves were up here. She figured that with the Sword of the Creator she should be able to handle anyone that tried to confront her, but she was on edge all the same. 

The first thing she noticed as she got closer, was the fact that some of her belongings had been tossed over the hedges, and her door had been smashed off of its hinges. It appeared that the other rooms were mostly untouched. _Why mine?_ She cautiously walked up the steps to her room and let out an audible gasp. 

Her room was in complete shambles. Yellowed pieces of parchment were strewn everywhere, her desk was smashed, even her bed was broken. She noticed that what remained of her clothes were torn to shreds as she stepped into the dusty room. The various flower vases she kept in her room had been smashed on top of the dresser, and her trunk had been smashed open. Scrawled across the wall in black charcoal were the words, “Death to the fake goddess”. 

_Edelgard’s soldiers, maybe?_ She hummed softly in the back of her throat. She couldn’t picture Edelgard doing something like this, personally. The young emperor had been far too earnest about wanting her teacher to join her side. 

_Hubert’s definitely twisted enough to do something like this. He must have relished in the thought of my death. Maybe he had men trash it as a symbol. I’m sure Rhea’s quarters and the cathedral are the same._

She looked down at the wood of her broken desk, and spotted large handprints in the layer of dust. _Someone was here, and recently…_ She took one last glance over her old quarters before walking back out the door. She glanced at the training grounds door, but decided against it. _There’s no hope of finding supplies in there._

She walked around the corner toward the courtyard in front of the classroom and froze, dropping into a defensive stance and scanning the area. Fresh corpses were scattered across the courtyard, brutalized and disfigured. Bile climbed up her throat as she gripped her sword tighter. Even after all the death she had seen in her life, these bodies affected her. _Whoever did this, did not kill with any sense of mercy._ She noticed all the corpses were wearing Imperial armor, but that didn’t mean whomever did this wouldn’t do the same to her if they found her here. 

Against her mercenary instincts, she followed the trail of bodies to the bridge that connected the Cathedral to the rest of the monastery. It almost felt like something was calling to her, but she didn’t know what or why. She cautiously stepped into the Cathedral and gaped at the destruction within. Pews lay in broken heaps on the ground, the altar was destroyed, the center of the ceiling had a massive hole with a pile of rubble underneath it, and most of the beautiful stained-glass windows had been broken. The beautiful cathedral where she attended choir practice with her students was in complete ruins. She didn’t consider herself the most pious of people, but even she felt a pang of grief as she slowly walked along the tiled floor.

She walked toward the pile of rubble, but stopped when she spotted more bodies near the open door that she knew led to the Goddess Tower. She continued to follow the trail of bodies through the door, past the well, and up the blood-stained stone steps of the Tower. The smell of death was heavy in the air, and everything was quiet, save for the sounds of her heels on the stone steps. 

_Maybe both groups killed each other? Or I’m walking into an ambush…_ When the possibility of such popped into her mind, she immediately pulled at the power of the Divine Pulse, testing to see if she could use it in her current state. When time shattered and the image in front of her was in tones of purple, she let the power go and continued.

When she crested the top of the stairs, she came to a stop. The sun outside was now high in the sky, and the sunlight filtered in through the busted windows and crumbling ceiling. In the shadows a figure sat hunched against the ivy-covered wall on the opposite side of the room, leaning heavily against a lance. She cautiously stepped forward, and into the light. Her breath hitched in her throat when the figure raised their head enough for sunlight to hit part of their face.

What used to be beautiful golden blonde hair was now long and matted, and stained with blood. A black eyepatch covered one of his eyes, and his face had blood splattered across it. She took the time to notice his black armor, and the fur-lined cloak that draped across his shoulders. There was no longer any doubt. It had been five years, and they had not treated Dimitri well. 

Still her mind struggled with the thought. _It can’t be… no… this isn’t possible._ Her voice wavered as she whispered, “Dima?” 

Her poor lion cub gave a pained grunt as he slowly straightened to wearily look up at her. A much deeper voice than she remembered him having uttered, “I should have known… that one day… you would be haunting me as well.” He clutched at his side and bowed his head once more, sagging heavily against the wall and his lance. He was badly injured, but that made sense with the amount of bodies he had left in his wake.

Tears pricked her eyes as she tried to calmly whisper, “Dima… I’m right here. It’s going to be alright.” She stepped forward slowly, but Dimitri didn’t react, he just continued to hang his head. _My students think I’m dead._ _Dimitri thinks I have joined the ranks of those that haunt him._ The thought causes a sharp pain in her chest. 

When she got down on her knees before him and held out a hand to him, he lifted his face and his lone blue eye widened. “You… what must I do to be rid of you?” His voice was weak and pleading as he cried, “I will kill that woman, I swear it! Please! Do not look upon me with scorn in your eyes. I cannot bear it! Not from you, too. Never from you…” His voice wavered as he whispered, “Just give me a little more time. Please! I beg of you. Do not torment me with your presence any longer! I will give you peace, I just need more time!”

Her voice was thick with emotion as she whispered, “Everything will be okay, Dima. I’m here now.” She moved to stroke his hair from his face, but he moved away. The action caused him to hiss in pain. “You’re injured. Let me heal you.” 

She summoned her healing magic to her palms and reached out to touch his cheek, the only patch of skin she could see that was uncovered by armor. She had to concentrate more in order for the spell to work, but she could feel the wound in his side, and she visualized it stitching itself shut.

A strangled gasp left Dimitri’s mouth as his blue eye widened. Awe and hope shone through, and her chest seemed to explode with warmth. For the first time since she woke up, she felt hope. 

That hope vanished as quickly as it came. He muttered, “You? It can’t be!” Fury flashed over his features before she was suddenly thrown onto her back. Her head hit the stone with a resounding smack that had her seeing stars. Dimitri’s enormous hand squeezed around her throat as she struggled for air.

“My Professor… my Byleth… she is DEAD.” His voice cracked with grief on the last word and the sound of his grief, as well as the throbbing pain in her head, caused tears to form in her eyes. His eye narrowed and anything resembling grief was replaced by fiery rage. He hissed, “You must be like those monsters, Kronya and Solon. Are you another Imperial spy? Have you come to witness the degradation of the Crowned Prince of Faerghus? Or have you simply come to kill me? Answer the question!”

She gasped out, “Dima… it’s… me…”

The hold on her throat eased slightly, but Dimitri still leered over her. He could have killed her immediately. With his strength he could have snapped her neck as soon as he threw her down. She had a small chance to try and reason with him, but she knew she had to be very careful with Dimitri in this state. 

He was still furious as he yelled, “Prove it, then! Prove it is you! The one who fell from the cliff. The one I lost, five long years ago.”

She stared up at Dimitri wide-eyed. Tears streamed down her cheeks as she desperately tried to think of what she could possibly do. She fumbled her hand to her belt, and Dimitri snatched her wrist with a bruising grip. She croaked, “Pouch… please…” He let her wrist go, but his icy blue eye watched her hand carefully as it went to the inside pocket of her shorts and pulled out the leather pouch. She fumbled it open, and spilled the contents onto the ground over her shoulder. Dimitri’s eye widened as it landed on what she hoped was the still recognizable charm bracelet. She hadn’t thought to check if the water had damaged the bracelet and her mother’s ring.

Fury twisted his features into an ugly snarl as he growled, “You stole her things? How dare you?!” 

She shook her head as much as she could and held up her hands in surrender. “Dima… please! It’s me!”

“Having her things means nothing! That… vile woman… destroyed her room. You could have easily taken it from there in an effort to deceive me.”

She gasped for air a little more as her vision began to blur. _I won’t hurt him, in this state I’m not even sure I could._ In a last-ditch effort, she summoned a weak faith spell to her fingertips and laid her hands on each side of Dimitri’s head. She tried to hum Sothis’ song, but it was cut off by Dimitri’s hand around her throat. Dimitri’s eye widened again and the pressure around her throat quickly vanished. She coughed and heaved for breath as she rolled to her knees clutching her sore neck. 

He stood over her for a while, though she couldn’t see him because she was still trying to fill her lungs with enough air to make the room stop spinning. Dimitri growled in what sounded like frustration and walked around her toward the steps. She raised her head and weakly rasped, “I’m glad you’re safe.”

He halted, but didn’t turn toward her. He bowed his head ever so slightly and muttered, “Am I?” He didn’t give her time to answer. His heavy footsteps echoed in the stone room as he descended the stairs.

She scrambled to her feet, picked up the pouch with the bracelet and the ring, and rushed after him, calling his name as she ran. He did not give her a reply, in fact, he didn’t even acknowledge her. He walked silently past the well and back into the Cathedral where the bodies of the Imperial soldiers still laid disfigured and strewn around. She tried not to look as she fought to keep up with his much longer strides. Dimitri was tall when she last saw him, but now he towered above her. She imagined if she stood in front of him, the top of her head would barely reach his collarbone, if that.

She moved to stand in front of him, but when she did, he wouldn’t look at her. He looked past her, and what he was seeing she could never know. “What have you been doing the past five years?”

He didn’t respond for a while. He just stared unseeing into the distance. When she asked again, he brusquely answered, “I have been dead, more or less.”

She attempted to shake away the tears that threatened to spill from her eyes. “Why would you say something like that, Dima?”

He bellowed, “STOP CALLING ME THAT!” His anger echoed through the empty cathedral as he glared daggers at her.

She kept her voice firm as she leveled her stare back at him. “Why? You used to like it when I called you that, you said it made you happy.”

He laughed, but it sounded more like a bark as he threw his head back and sneered. “Happy? Don’t be ridiculous. This Dima--” he said the word and his nose wrinkled in distaste “—you speak of, has long since passed. I am nothing but a walking corpse. But that no longer matters, there are more important matters at hand…” He turned his back to her, facing the door to the cathedral. “Do you not smell them? Filthy rats. Everywhere. There are traces of those that were here long ago. Now thieves are crawling from the woodwork, attracted by the promise of treasure.” He chuckled darkly and started to walk toward the door, she hurried along behind him.

He continued, “Since the monastery fell, order in the area fell right along with it. You must have seen the state of the town near Garreg Mach on your way here. Vile thieves run rampant. They pillage and loot to their heart’s content.” His voice became lower and it sent a chill down her spine when he growled, “I must kill every last one of them.”

 _This is what became of the Dimitri who once pleaded with me that loss of life should always be avoided? The boy who almost cried after Lonato’s insurrection? What happened while I was gone?_ The guilt began to eat her from the inside out until she stamped it down to deal with later. She called, “You don’t have to kill them to stop them, Dimitri.”

He halted abruptly, and she almost ran into the broad expanse of his back. He didn’t turn, all he did was growl, “They must all die. Someone must put a stop to the cycle of the strong trampling the weak. Or do you condone their actions, Professor?” The venom in his voice as he spoke her title filled her with sorrow. He always used to say it with a small smile, his eyes always used to brighten when he saw her. _That boy has to be in there, somewhere. Right?_

He continued his rant. “Do you believe that the pillaging and slaughtering that those rats live for is justified?! It is reprehensible and they must be put down! I intend to give them a taste of the pain they have inflicted upon others. Even if it means becoming a rat myself. I swore to at least do that much… I will not let them down…”

“Let who down, Dimitri?” He didn’t answer her. Instead he pushed through the heavy Cathedral doors and walked swiftly over the bridge as she trailed behind. When that didn’t work, she tried a different line of questioning. “How many thieves are there? Can the two of us really hope to prevail on our own?”

His voice was somewhat resigned as he muttered, “It doesn’t matter. All that matters is killing those that deserve to die.”

~Sylvain~

They camped a few hours from the gate of the monastery the night before the millennium festival. An air of excitement radiated from the group, even Bernadetta chattered away with everyone as they ate.

Felix watched everyone warily, and didn’t join in on the merriment. Any time Sylvain tried to bring up Byleth when they spoke, Felix quickly changed the subject. Felix slept in his arms each night, but didn’t show any affection around their friends. They hadn’t discussed what they were really doing after the raid, and there hadn’t been an opportunity to communicate about what they were to one another before all of this madness. Sylvain was too scared to bring it up now. He knew they were heading to Garreg Mach, hoping to find Byleth there. The emotions that brought up were too complicated for him to even begin to dissect.

The morning of what would have been the millennium festival, as they rode toward the monastery, Sylvain pulled his horse up alongside Felix’s. “Are we going to talk about what happens if Byleth is alive?”

“No. Why would we?” Felix replied curtly.

Sylvain bit back a groan. “Fe… What if she’s--”

“It’s been five years, Sylvain.” Felix scowled as he continued to stare straight ahead.

“I know it has been but—"

Felix turned his head and amber eyes met his. “She’s not going to be there. You’re foolish for thinking it’s a possibility.”

 _Okay… ouch._ “But, Fe… What about the dreams everyone had? You have to admit that’s strange.” Felix scowled and opened his mouth to answer, but was cut off.

“Is that… my father?” Annette’s voice chimed out from the front, and both men turned to try and see what she was referring to. She was right, just down the path was a camp with a few knights, including Annette’s father.

Annette sped up on her horse, rushing toward her father and his group, while the others trailed slightly behind. “Father, what are you doing here?”

Gustave, or Gilbert, or whatever he goes by now, grimaced at the sight of their group. “Annette, what are you doing here?”

“The Blue Lions made a promise to meet at the monastery on the day of the millennium festival.”

He gave her an almost condescending look as he shook his head. “There is no millennium festival, Annette. It’s far too dangerous for you all to be here.”

Felix scoffed as he dismounted with the rest of them. “Oh, shut up, will you? We’ve all been fighting a fucking war for the past five years. I think we can handle some bandits.” 

The older ginger knight’s eyes widened. “Annette?”

“I’ve been living in Gautier territory with Sylvain. He offered me a place to go when Cornelia tried to force me into joining the Dukedom army. Uncle tried to keep mother and I with him, but I ran away. I’ve been fighting with the rebellion ever since.” 

The familiar eyes of a father who hears their daughter is involved with a man of his reputation started to burn into his head and he raised his hands in mock surrender. “Hey now! It’s not like that. You’re looking at the wrong guy!”

Ashe moved to stand at Annette’s side, but before the archer could even open his mouth, Annette stomped her foot and shouted, “Don’t you dare look at him like that! I’m not with Sylvain, but even if I was, you lost the right to judge a long time ago.”

A small smirk spread on Felix’s face as Annette turned her head and stammered, “Not that there’s anything to judge… really… I was just—”

Sylvain chuckled and crossed his arms behind his head. “No harm done. I get what you meant.” _I mean… it hurts a little. But I probably deserve at least that much._

Gustave sighed heavily and shook his head. “We will accompany you to the monastery, if you insist on going. That is where we are heading, anyway. We were just about to set off.”

Ashe asks, “Why are you heading to the monastery, Sir Gilbert?”

“For the last three years I have been following the rumors of the One-Eyed Demon. I have reason to believe it is, in fact, His Highness. The villages nearby are speaking of a single man who can take out entire vanguards of Imperial soldiers. It’s said that he has been haunting the grounds of the monastery for the past several months. Perhaps His Highness is also keeping the promise you all made.” He put a hand to his chin and muttered, “I should have known to check the monastery.”

“The boar? You think the boar is there?” Gilbert’s gaze hardened as he leveled it at a now fuming Felix. He spun toward Sylvain and poked a finger into his chest. “You knew about this, didn’t you? Didn’t you?!”

Sylvain sighed and tried to put his hands on Felix’s shoulders, but the prickly swordsman stepped out of his reach. “Ashe and Annette had their suspicions, yes. I thought you might not come if we told you, and I knew you would regret it if either of them showed up alive. We had to follow the dream, Fe.” Felix scowled at him and crossed his arms defiantly.

Gilbert cleared his throat heavily and asked, “Dream? What are you talking about?”

Felix hissed, “None of your damn business!” 

Annette shot Felix a sharp look before she turned back to her father. “We all had the same dream about the Professor. We think she might be alive.”

Gilbert’s hand settled on his chin as he looked down at the ground in thought. “Perhaps His Highness was looking for the Professor. Perhaps that’s why he’s been in the area.” Felix tensed up even further and looked like he might try to lunge at the older knight before Sylvain put a hand on his arm. “We must get to the monastery, immediately.”

Felix growled, “No shit.” No one paid him any mind.

They had only been riding for about an hour when the sounds of battle could be heard in the distance. Gilbert raised a hand and they all stopped to survey the town just outside Garreg Mach.

Sylvain asks, “Should we try to go around or…?”

Just then, Ingrid shouted from the sky, “I see His Highness!” And flew off like a shot in the direction of the fighting. 

Gilbert murmured, “I found you, at last. Dimitri, I’m on my way.” He then shouted, “Let’s move!”

Sylvain’s heart was racing in his chest as he kicked his horse into a gallop. His Highness is alive… I can’t believe it. All he could hear was the thundering of their horses’ hooves against the path as they all raced toward the town. Gilbert, Felix, Annette, and Bernadetta all dismounted to continue on foot while Gilbert ordered the rest of them to circle to the western entrance. 

He rode as fast as he could with the others until they entered through the western entrance. The bandits immediately turned to face them and Sylvain held the Lance of Ruin aloft. 

He heard Ingrid shout, “Professor! You’re alive, after all!” 

He whipped his head in the direction of Ingrid’s pegasus, desperate for a glimpse of Byleth, but Ashe shouted, “Sylvain look out!” He turned back to cut down the axe wielding bandit running right toward him. His heart was racing, and he could hardly breathe as he frantically looked around the battlefield. When an arrow flew past him, he forced himself back into reality. 

The bandits didn’t stand a chance as they all pushed forward. He distantly saw Dorothea and Mercedes over on the other side of the small town, but he still couldn’t catch a glimpse of Byleth or Dimitri.

They all fought toward the center of town, and Sylvain’s breath caught in his throat as he rounded a corner and spotted a figure in the distance wearing a long blue cloak. His blonde hair was long and matted, and Sylvain could practically smell the blood and gore that covered him, but it was definitely Dimitri. He was missing an eye, and there was something overwhelmingly _different_ about him. One thing was for sure, Dimitri was no longer the boy he grew up with. 

Dimitri growled like a wild animal as he skewered a bandit with his lance. He grabbed the man by the throat and threw him into a nearby wall, and the strength of the throw sent the body straight through. However, he didn’t have time to dwell on the state of his old friend, because footsteps sounded out behind Sylvain and he turned on his horse. A group of three bandits were rushing toward him.

When Sylvain had finally finished the small group of bandits off, he turned his horse back toward where he had seen Dimitri. He kicked his horse into a run as he heard the familiar sound of the Sword of the Creator in its whip form. _She’s here…_

His pulse was roaring in his ears as he rode into the center of town and spotted a mass of his former classmates. His eyes didn’t focus on them, instead they focused on the seafoam green hair at the center.

Byleth looked the same as the day he left, the same as the Byleth in his dreams. She couldn’t have aged a day, and she still wore the same armor and tights, though they were in tatters as they hung from her body. Her hair was matted and unkempt, but her smile was bright and her laugh as she reunited with her students was enough to take his breath away. 

He dismounted as quickly as he could and screamed, “BY!”

She turned, and when her brilliant green eyes landed on him her smile grew even wider. Tears blurred his vision as she sprinted toward him, threw herself into his arms, and wrapped her legs around his armored waist. He spun her around as a broken chuckle bubbled out through his throat. Pure elation coursed through him as he held her close. He felt tears on his skin from her face nuzzled into his neck. 

_This can’t be real. I’m dreaming… this has to be a dream…_

“Syl…” Her voice cracked as she whispered his name. “I’m so sorry. I’m so so sorry.”

His cheeks were wet with tears as he shook his head. His voice was a breathless whisper, “You’re alive… I can’t believe you’re alive.”

She frantically asked, “Felix? Is Felix okay?”

 _Felix! Where is Felix?_ He scanned through the group of faces before his eyes landed on wide amber eyes and a pale face. Guilt hit him like an icy tidal wave as he set Byleth back on the ground. Felix looked absolutely terrified, standing frozen about twenty feet away, just staring at them. Sylvain tried to keep his voice steady as he pointed and said, “He’s right there.” 

He heard Byleth’s sharp intake of breath, but he couldn’t see her face. Felix’s eyes widened even further before he turned and walked in the opposite direction. Byleth screamed his name, but he was practically running toward the opposite side of town. Pain ripped through Sylvain’s chest as he watched the swordsman flee.

Byleth whispered, “Where…?”

“Professor! I can’t believe you’re alive!” Ashe ran up and pulled Byleth into a hug and she chuckled hesitantly, still staring in the direction Felix had run off in.

“I’ll go and find him.” Byleth sent him a desperate glance, but he shook his head and ran.

~Felix~

Annette called out, “Mercie?!” Her excited scream gained the attention of the young priestess who was standing on the other side of the small town with Dorothea fighting off bandits. Unfortunately, it also got the attention of said bandits.

Gilbert groaned, “Annette…” before stomping forward with his axe and shield to join the fray. The young mage looked around sheepishly, before casting a powerful excalibur spell at an approaching archer. Felix sprinted past her to finish him off.

“Stay behind me, will you? Ashe will kill me if you get hurt.” Annette sent him a tight smile as she and Bernadetta moved behind him.

In the center of town, Ingrid shouted, “Professor! You’re alive after all!” His blood felt like it was humming through his veins as his head immediately whipped in the direction of her shout. Desperation and anxiety threatened to overwhelm him, but he shook it off to focus on the bandits in front of them.

Bernadetta hesitantly called, “You should go, Felix. We’ll try to manage on our own.”

He growled, “Don’t be foolish. If it’s really her, she’ll still be there once we’ve cleared out the bandits. Now let’s move!”

He tried so hard to focus on the fighting in front of him, but the battle was a blur. His sword arm fell into routine, cutting down the unskilled bandits before they could reach Bernadetta or Annette behind him. He ducked out of the way of arrows and magic as they leant him support. 

The enemy leader was standing in the center of town, and he circled with the girls, approaching from behind. He signaled to Bernadetta, who’s Crest flared as she rained down arrows on the leader’s guards. The leader turned and stared at them in horror. He shouted to his remaining comrades, “It isn’t looking good for us. Should we retreat?”

A body flew through a crumbling wall between Felix and the enemy leader. A towering figure stepped through, and turned to face the enemy. Felix’s eyes took in a huge, blue, fur-lined cape and matted blonde hair as Annette gasped and Bernadetta yelped behind him. A deep voice called, “You didn’t plan on letting him get away, did you? The rats must be exterminated.”

The towering figure, _the Boar… the boar was alive_ , pulled his lance from the body that was flung through the wall and threw it like a javelin toward the enemy leader. The leader rolled out of the way as he shouted, “Rats?! I’m no rat. I just thought it'd be easy money. I’ll leave now, and I won’t come back! I swear! Please, just let me go!”

The boar stalked toward him, and the leader scrambled backward in an attempt to get away. With a familiar grating sound, a flash of red-orange light shot out and cut him down as soon as he stepped past the wall. Felix drew in a sharp breath as the blade retracted out of sight. The enemy leader died without a sound, but Felix wasn’t paying attention to that. He was too busy walking past the boar, around the corner, and screeching to a halt as his eyes landed on the mass of hugging people a few feet away from him.

Felix spotted Sylvain off to the left, dismounting from his horse. Sylvain shouted Byleth’s name, and Felix watched as her eyes widened before she turned around. She sprinted toward him, jumping into his outstretched arms, and wrapping her legs around his waist as he spun her around. Her face was tucked into his neck as tears stream down his smile-stretched cheeks. A pit opened up in Felix stomach.

“Why did you come?” The boar’s voice sounded out from behind him, but he was too frozen in shock to do anything. The boar didn’t try to ask again, instead he attempted to flee as Gustave rushed up to him. 

“Your Highness! I’ve been following news of your whereabouts for a while now. I am relieved to have finally found you.” Felix heard the retreating footsteps stop, but he didn’t turn around to see whatever face the boar was making. He was too busy watching Sylvain and Byleth cry as they held one another. Byleth’s feet hadn’t even touched the ground yet.

The boar growled, “Do not call me that. I am not a prince, but a walking corpse.”

Gustave shook his head. “That is what we believed, but it is not so. I can see with my own eyes that you are alive, Your Highness.” 

The conversation surely continued, but Felix could no longer hear them as Sylvain’s eyes roamed over the group and landed on him. Sylvain said something Felix couldn’t hear before pointing in his direction. Byleth’s smile when her green eyes spotted him made it feel like there was a fifty-pound weight on his chest. He suddenly felt the urge to flee, so he did. He turned around and walked as quickly as he could in the opposite direction. Byleth called his name, but he ignored it in favor of trying to regulate his frantic breathing.

He walked as far as he could, weaving through the ruined buildings until he couldn’t focus enough to walk any longer and he collapsed against a crumbling wall. _She’s been alive this whole time? What? Has she been with the boar?_ Rage shot through him, slowly replacing the panic that he was feeling moments ago. _We were mourning her, and fighting a war, and she was out here with the damned boar?!_

He tasted iron, and realized he’d bitten the inside of his cheek so hard it was bleeding. He shut his eyes and put his head between his knees as he tried to fight of the stinging in his eyes. _What is happening?! Is this some sort of dream? She’s not alive… she couldn’t be. She can’t be here._

Slow footsteps sounded off to his left and he quickly reverted to battle training, drawing his sword in his trembling hand and scrambling to his feet. Sylvain walked around the corner and raised his hands in surrender as he noticed Felix’s sword pointed at his chest.

Sylvain’s tone was hesitant as he asked, “Fe, what are you doing out here?”

His voice dripped with venom as he spat out, “I thought you were hunting down ghosts, but apparently they aren’t even dead. I should have known she’d be with the boar this whole time. I’m such a fucking FOOL!” The rage in his chest felt like it was trying to claw out from the inside. He turned away from Sylvain's pitying look.

Sylvain’s voice took on a soothing tone as he said, “I don't think that's it... You just need to go and talk to her. If you don’t, you’ll regret it.”

He hissed, “I don’t feel like talking. Just leave me alone!”

“Fe?” A breathless whisper sounded out behind him, clenching his heart in a vice like grip. He hung his head and shut his eyes, not moving as footsteps approached from behind him. A small hand touched his arm as the familiar heeled footsteps stopped in front of him. “You’re alive… you’re okay!” Byleth’s tearful voice added onto the weight on his chest, but he still didn’t open his eyes. 

“Felix, what’s wrong? Why won’t you look at me?” The hand on his arm trailed up to his cheek as Byleth slowly lifted his head.

He opened his eyes and the sight of her face added fuel to his rage. “You were with the boar?! We’ve been grieving you for five years, and you were with that damned boar?!”

Tears streamed down her cheeks as she shook her head slowly. “No, I just found him in the Goddess Tower this morning.”

He grabbed her upper arms tightly and cried, “Then, where were you?! Why didn’t you come and find us?! Why didn’t you send anything to let us know you were okay?! I thought you were DEAD!” His voice was weak and pleading, and he couldn’t stop shaking no matter how hard he tried.

She was still shaking her head as the flow of tears increased. “I was sleeping, Felix. I woke up last night, being dragged out of the river by some random villager. I thought the fight was a few days ago, but the villager told me it had been five years and I…” She let out a choked sob and fell into his shoulder as he stared into the distance with wide eyes.

“You were… sleeping?” Sylvain’s tone was incredulous as he walked up to stand beside him.

“I don’t know… that’s the only way I know how to describe it. I’m just so happy you guys are safe! I was so scared that you guys would be gone, and I didn’t know what to do.” The desperation was thick in her voice, and it was cutting right through him.

He lightly grabbed her arms and shifted her until she was standing in front of Sylvain. Felix mumbled, “I’m going for a walk. I’ll meet you guys back at the monastery.”

As he walked away Sylvain shouted, “Fe, wait!”

Byleth’s crying grew louder behind him, and she started shouting, “I’m so sorry” at his back over and over as he walked away. His hands trembled as he walked into the trees. Too many feelings were coursing through him for him to be around either of them right now. The thought occurred to him, that it wasn’t fair of him to leave her like that, but he couldn’t deal with it right now.

 _Sleeping? For five years? She was sleeping in some river, and I just left her there? I didn’t even try to look for her. I had that same dream over and over. She was probably trying to call for help or something, and I just ignored it._ He fell to his knees and stared at the ground below him. _I’m such a fool. I should have paid more attention. Why didn’t I listen?!_

The image of Byleth sleeping at the bottom of freezing water for five years, all alone, made bile climb up his throat until he puked into the grass in front of him. He wiped his mouth with the back of his sleeve before sitting back on his heels. 

_I’ve been so busy being angry at her for breaking her promise, that I didn’t even think to look for her. I just gave up on her, even after every one of those crazy dreams. That voice was right… I am a damned fool._

“Fe… baby… are you okay?” Sylvain’s hesitant voice behind him had the same effect as a knife to his chest.

He brokenly whispered, “Go away.”

He heard the footsteps come closer, before Sylvain knelt down behind him and wrapped his arms around his shoulders. “I’m not leaving you, Fe. I’m right here.”

“You want to be with her. Just go.”

He felt Sylvain’s nose against his neck as Sylvain nuzzled into him. “Don’t… don’t say that.”

Felix weakly whispered, “I don’t want you here.” His chest felt impossibly tight as he stared off into the distance. He shook Sylvain off and stumbled to his feet. Without looking at him, he more forcefully said, “I don’t want you here, just leave!”

“Don’t say that… Look at me, Fe. I’m right here. I’m not going anywhere!” Sylvain grabbed his arm and tried to turn him around, but he wouldn’t budge.

His voice sounded far away and he felt light headed as he tried to rip his arm away from Sylvain. “I’m such a fool. She was alive… and I just abandoned her. I just left her here all alone. I can’t…” His voice cracked and he shook his head. “I can’t be here right now. I can’t do this.”

Sylvain walked around him and grabbed his shoulders. He ducked down and stared into his eyes. Sylvain’s voice was soft and pleading as he said, “Fe… just breathe for me, okay? It’s going to be alright, we’ll talk to Byleth and figure this out.”

Venom dripped from his every word as Felix hissed, “There’s no “we”! Not anymore. I doubt there ever really was! I was just some placeholder for her anyway, wasn’t I? A good distraction until she came back. That’s why you wanted to come back here so badly, isn’t it? You wanted to find her so badly… I’m probably just beating you to the punch.” 

Hurt was etched across every beautiful feature of Sylvain’s face, and golden-brown eyes became pleading as Felix tried to push him away. “Please… don’t. Please don’t do this. Please, Fe. Just us… remember? Just us!”

Sylvain grabbed his hands, but he pulled them away and yelled, “Don’t fucking touch me!” He ran into the trees, trying to ignore the sound of Sylvain’s broken sobs behind him as he ran.


	2. Reunion at Dawn (pt2)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Byleth freaks the freak out.

~Byleth~

Sylvain held her tightly against his broad armored chest as she cried. Felix’s face full of hurt and anger was scarred into the back of her eyelids as she tried to regain her composure. After a few moments, Sylvain whispered into her hair, “I’m going to go after him. I need to make sure he’s alright.”

“Okay…” She sniffled and weakly pushed off his chest. He sent her one more sad smile over his shoulder before he ran into the trees after Felix. _He should hate me, they both should. I broke my promise, fell off a cliff, and left them alone to fight a war for five years._ That same guilt from earlier started to eat at her insides again, and she tried to push it back as she fought to stop the mess of emotions that had been brewing within her since she woke up in the river. Eventually her breathing evened out and fatigue washed over her. The lack of nourishment and rest were starting to catch up to her as she stumbled back in the direction of her students. 

Bernadetta walked slowly around the corner and smiled brightly at her. Each time Byleth looked over one of her students, the fact that it had been five years hit her like a blow to the chest. Bernadetta looked so much older and more mature, it was rather startling. Her hair was no longer a short frizzy mop. It was straight and sleek, cut short around jaw length, except for some longer pieces in the back. Her eyes, instead of being fearful, shone brightly as she walked toward her with her arms outstretched.

“Professor!” Byleth was pulled into a hug and noticed the archer was now taller than her. “I’m so glad you’re here!” Her voice was choked up, like she might cry, but her body didn’t tremble like it had the night Edelgard had attacked the Holy Tomb and so many other times before. She looked happy, and it filled Byleth’s chest with warmth.

“Bernadetta… you look so beautiful… and so happy!” 

Bernadetta laughed nervously and played with the hem of her light armor. “T-Thank you, Professor.” She scanned the immediate area with sharp eyes and asked, “Is Felix okay? I saw you guys run after him.”

The look of betrayal on Felix face flashed before her again and she looked down at the ground. “He’s… not… Sylvain is checking on him.” She gestured back toward the forest weakly.

Bernadetta put a soft hand on her arm and she looked back up at the purple-haired archer. “Felix was really sad when you were gone. He tried not to show it, but he was. Maybe he’s just struggling with that, ya know? I-I think he’ll come around.”

“Do you know Felix… well?” Felix and Bernadetta weren’t exactly friends five years ago, in fact Bernadetta was outright terrified of the prickly swordsman if she remembered correctly. It had been five years, though. Were they friends? Were they… more? She was certainly concerned for him, Byleth could see it in the way her grey eyes kept darting toward the trees Byleth had indicated towards.

“W-well how well does anyone really know Felix?” Bernadetta chuckled nervously under her gaze and rubbed her arm. “His parents were really kind and let me stay with them after you…” Bernadetta’s lip quivered slightly before she gave a sad smile. “I was so worried they would make me go home to my father, but Felix and his parents really helped me. They gave me a place to stay, and Felix helped me train to be able to defend myself. He’s been really nice to me… i-in his Felix kind of way.”

“He… did?” She tried not to sound surprised, she really did. But the thought of Felix taking Bernadetta under his wing like that was kind of shocking. He had been slightly warmer with his classmates toward the end of the year, shown in his sharp but encouraging words with Ashe, and hiding a slight smile whenever Annette would sing one of her little ditties. But the thought of him helping Bernadetta like that… it filled her chest with warmth, something like pride and fondness. 

That warmth was then replaced by a cold wash of guilt when she thought about the fact that the only reason he had to, was because she was gone. While she was sleeping in a river, he was helping to take care of her old students and fighting a war. Bernadetta didn’t seem to notice Byleth’s spiraling. She smiled softly and said, “He’s kinda like a big nut, isn’t he? Once you get through the tough shell, there’s all sorts of good stuff inside.” Her eyes widened as she whimpered softly and cried, “B-But don’t tell him I said that!”

Byleth shook her head and tried to step forward, but her knees buckled slightly. With the adrenaline of the battle long gone, the fatigue and hunger were REALLY starting to get to her. Bernadetta caught her with steady hands and whimpered, “P-Professor?! Are you okay?”

“I’m sorry… I’m just really tired, and I haven’t eaten anything in a while. Do you think you could help me get back to the others?” Bernadetta’s eyes widened as she hesitantly nodded and threw one of her arms over her shoulders. 

They stumbled back to the center of town, where she immediately noticed Ashe and Annette crying, as well as a teary-eyed Mercedes. “What’s wrong? What happened?” All eyes turned to face her, and the mixture of emotions in the group of faces was enough to make her feel nervous.

Mercedes put her hands together in front of her chest like she was praying before saying, “Dimitri informed us that Dedue died while freeing him from his prison cell in Fhirdiad.” 

Byleth tried to breathe, but a sharp pain shot through her chest and seemed to steal the air from her lungs. _Dedue… Dedue is dead. He died saving Dimitri from Fhirdiad? What the hell happened while I was gone? I failed him, I failed both of them. And now Dedue..._ Tears pricked at her eyes until she shook them away, not wanting to be overly emotional in front of her students. _Former students, Byleth. They aren’t kids anymore._

Mercedes’ gentle eyes filled with tears again as she added, “I’m so sorry, Professor.”

Sir Gilbert stepped forward with a small bow. “Professor, I know this is a hard moment for you, and it is good to see you alive and well. However, I must ask you, where have you been?” Her students all nodded and looked on in interest, including the ones that were still drying their eyes.

She continued to lean against Bernadetta as she tried to explain. “I fell from a cliff during the battle to defend the monastery. The next thing I knew, I was waking up at the bottom of a river. The battle to defend Garreg Mach feels like days ago, but the villager who pulled me from the river told me it had been almost five years.” Gasps and murmurs sounded out as the group all stared at her with awed expressions. She looked over all of her old students, who had all matured and grown. “Looking at you all now, it’s impossible to deny how much time has passed.”

Gilbert brought a hand to his chin and stared at the ground in thought. “To think you survived all those years… I suppose stranger things have happened, odd as that is to admit.” _What could possibly be stranger than sleeping for FIVE YEARS?_

He shook his head and raised it to look at her solemnly. “There’s still much I wish to ask you, but I think that’s enough for now.”

“Sir Gilbert, where are the Knights of Seiros? Why is the monastery in ruins?”

The stoic knight’s face fell. “On that day five years ago, during the battle with the Imperial Army, Lady Rhea went missing. Since then, the Knights of Seiros have been searching for her… and for you.”

“They were looking for me?” Her confusion registered in her voice and Gilbert raised an eyebrow as he nodded.

“Lady Rhea was adamant that if anything should happen to her, you were to take over as Archbishop.” Her students began to murmur amongst themselves and she suddenly felt a lot weaker than she did a moment before. Rhea had told her as much, but she hadn’t wanted that then, and she certainly didn’t want that role now. “The last I heard, they have yet to find any promising leads on Lady Rhea. As the Empire has yet to release a statement, it’s hard to imagine that she has perished. And yet… Ah, never mind. Once news gets out of your survival, I’m sure everyone will flock back to the monastery.”

Everything was starting to become overwhelming, and she started to lean even more on a struggling Bernadetta. _I’m the acting Archbishop? Can I even refuse? Can I do this? SHOULD I do this? What’s going on with the Kingdom and the Alliance? Where are Claude and the others? Are they alive? What about Seteth and Flayn?_ Her head was spinning with all of the questions running through her mind.

Bernadetta’s grip on her waist tightened slightly. “Um… I-I don’t think she has eaten since she’s woken up. Shouldn’t she rest before we talk about all of this?”

Gilbert nodded and said, “His Highness has already started walking up to the monastery. We should all head there.” 

Mercedes exclaimed, “Oh, Professor! Let’s get you fed and cleaned up, shall we?”

Byleth sighed longingly and said, “That sounds lovely, thank you. I might need to borrow some extra clothes if you have any, as well. All of my belongings were trashed when I checked my room at the monastery.”

Mercedes smiled softly and walked forward to take her hand. “That can be taken care of.” She tried to walk forward with Mercedes, but her knees buckled again. Mercedes held her left side as Bernadetta took up her place on Byleth’s right.

Byleth chuckled weakly and muttered, “I’m so sorry. I don’t know what’s happening…”

Linhardt stepped in front of her, sending a Heal Spell through her that filled her limbs with warmth. “You haven’t eaten in five years. I’d say that’s enough to make anyone feel a little weak in the knees, Professor.” The green haired mage looked older as well. His hair was long, falling past his shoulders with half of it tied back. His face was more angular, having shed the last of his childish features, and his shoulders were a bit broader, though as a mage he hadn’t put on muscle mass like Sylvain and Felix obviously had. He gave her a warm smile and it felt natural as she smiled back. She was glad he was safe and hadn’t gone back to the Empire in her absence. “By the way, when you feel better, I have about a million questions I’d like to ask you.”   
She rolled her eyes playfully as the girls walked her toward Bernadetta’s horse. “I’m sure that can be arranged, Linhardt.”

“Professor,” Ingrid called, “should we wait for Felix and Sylvain?” 

Byleth sighed heavily and glanced back in the direction they had run off in. “No. They told me they would meet us back at the monastery.” Ingrid grimaced and walked to her pegasus. Byleth’s chest ached, and her head was spinning. She wanted her friends at her side more than anything, but she hoped that, if she gave them enough time, they would come back.

Bernadetta had her nibble on a piece of dried meat she had packed as they rode in the direction of the monastery. The archer was very cute, fussing over her, but it felt odd to have everyone watch out for her like they so obviously were. Bernadetta’s horse was at the center of their makeshift formation, Ingrid’s pegasus flew directly above them, and everyone had circled around as they rode. 

Her chest tightened as she watched the faces of her former students when they reached the gates. The devastation at seeing the ruins of the monastery was written clearly all over their faces. Bernadetta was tense in front of her on the horse, and she gave a light squeeze to try and comfort the purple haired archer. Everyone walked their horses to the empty stables, which gratefully had very little damage.

Gilbert approached her again and offered an arm. “Can I assist you, Professor?”

She didn’t have much of a bond with Sir Gilbert before the battle to defend Garreg Mach. He had fought with them when they faced Miklan, and he had been a constant at the knight’s hall and around the monastery, but otherwise they hadn’t spoken much. She knew him to be overly proper and reserved, which didn’t lend many opportunities to build a relationship. She tried not to resent his attitude toward the Black Eagles students after Edelgard’s first attack in the Holy Tomb, knowing that he was speaking purely from a warrior’s experience, but it was still fresh on her mind.

“Of course, Sir Gilbert.” She reached out to take his arm, and a sharp pain blossomed in her temples. She raised her hands to her head, faltering in her step and stumbling slightly.

“Professor?” Gilbert’s deep voice sounded strangely far away. She looked up at Gilbert, and he looked… younger? He looked far less grim, he had less wrinkles around his eyes, and he was wearing a different suit of armor. She blinked and the younger Gilbert was gone, leaving the one she was familiar with behind. It was almost like it never even happened.

“What just…”

“You look unwell, Professor. Do you need to lie down?” Gilbert stepped forward and lightly took her arm as she thoroughly examined his face again. _What just happened?_ She rubbed her temples as footsteps sounded out around her. 

“Is she okay?”

“What happened?”

“We need to let her lie down.”

“She needs to eat, she’s probably malnourished.”

The many voices of her students were pounding against her head as she rubbed at her temples. She raised a hand for quiet and was impressed when they readily did. She stood up straighter and squared her shoulders. “I’m alright. There’s no need to worry.” Everyone was still hovering around her, and Gilbert was watching her closely as she took his arm. “The dining hall is a mess, but mostly intact. We can all go and eat there. You will have to catch me up on everything I’ve missed.”

They rounded the corner, heading in the direction of the dining hall, when Ashe stopped them. He whispered, “Do you guys hear something?”

They all stood silently for a moment, and she was both impressed and saddened by how quickly all of her students had their hands on their weapons, or had summoned spell sigils. War had obviously hardened them all immensely, physically and emotionally.

She could faintly hear the sound of hooves and wing beats. Her suspicions were confirmed when Bernadetta whispered, “I think it’s coming from the gates.” Bernadetta drew her bow with steady hands and looked to Ashe, who nodded in agreement. 

Byleth pulled on the last of her energy and drew the Sword of the Creator. Mercedes frowned, but didn’t say anything to deter her. “Ashe and Bernadetta, come with me to scope things out. The rest of you, hide in the courtyard. It may be more bandits. If it is, we’ll lead them to you.” 

The three of them crept through the tiny alleyway behind the stables, and headed toward the gates. Byleth halted when she started to hear voices. One male voice called, “Search everywhere, Byleth might be here somewhere!” 

Ashe put a hand on her shoulder and she glanced back at her students who were wide-eyed and nervous. Wing beats sounded above them and she crouched down in an attempt to hide. However, when she glanced up, she saw a familiar looking wyvern.

“Is that… Seteth?” Bernadetta’s hesitant voice sounded from behind her and Byleth smiled. She walked out of the alleyway in the direction the wyvern had flown.

“Seteth!” She screamed as loud as she could in the state she was in, and the wyvern quickly circled around to fly toward her. 

“PROFESSOR!” Flayn sat behind Seteth on the wyvern, and her cry was joyous as they quickly descended, landing right in front of her.

A surprisingly eager Seteth sprinted toward her and pulled her into an almost desperate hug. “You… You’re alive! How is this possible? I watched you fall!” His voice was thick with emotion as he hugged her. Flayn hugged her from behind and she wrapped an arm around each of them.

“Where have you been, Professor? My brother and I have been so worried about you. We searched everywhere!” Flayn tearfully cried.

“I was… sleeping.” It didn’t feel any less weird the more she said it, but the look that was exchanged between the green-haired father and daughter did not go unnoticed.

“Sleeping?” Flayn chirped as she stepped to her father’s side.

“That’s the best explanation I have. I woke last night as a random villager pulled be from the river downstream of here.”

“You slept in a river? What a dreadful place to rest.” Flayn put a hand to her mouth and shook her head lightly.

Before she could interpret what the hell that meant, she heard, “It does my heart well to see that you are safe.” Gilbert’s deep voice sounded out behind her and she turned to see her students walking out of the courtyard. Flayn gasped and ran toward her friends, and Annette and Mercedes immediately pulled her into a firm hug. “How did you get here so quickly? I had assumed that once you heard that the Professor was alive you would come, but…”

Flayn cheerfully called, “I had a dream about the Professor! I knew she was alive, and I begged my brother to come so I could keep my promise.” _A dream?_

“You had the dream as well, Flayn?” Linhardt stepped forward with a hand on his chin. He murmured, “It stands to reason that Caspar must have as well… where is he?” 

“As well? Do you mean to say we all had the dream?” Flayn’s eyebrows furrowed as she glanced around at the rest of the students.

“Wait… what dream?” When Byleth asked, all heads immediately turned to her.

The students all seemed to look at one another, but Bernadetta and Dorothea each shook their heads. Linhardt was the one who finally answered, “The former Blue Lions all had a dream about you, Professor. You were sleeping, holding the Sword of the Creator in front of your chest, and the Crest of Flames glowed in front of you.”

Annette nodded enthusiastically and added, “Yeah! And a voice said to remember the promise we made. That’s why we all came, Professor! We wanted to come and find you.”

 _A dream? A voice? What could they possibly…? Could it be…?_ “Hold on, what did the voice sound like?”

Linhardt hummed thoughtfully and said, “If I remember correctly, it sounded like a young girl.”

“That sounds right to me.” Ashe nodded in affirmation.

“Sothis…” Byleth put a hand to her head and swayed where she stood. 

Seteth stepped into her line of sight, eyebrows furrowed and lips pursed thoughtfully. “Forgive me, are you saying that the goddess came to your former students in a dream and asked them to come here?”

“If it was a young girl’s voice…” She stared into emerald green eyes, “I thought I heard her when I woke up, but I wasn’t sure… until now. I hadn’t heard her since we became one in the Sealed Forest. I don’t know how this happened.” 

“The goddess… sounds like a young girl?” Seteth was clearly puzzled and she raised an eyebrow at the advisor. 

“That is how she appeared to me, yes.” 

Seteth stared at her in wonder for a moment, before bowing slightly to her. “Well, Byleth… it seems we have all been called here for a purpose. The archbishop entrusted all of her affairs to you. From now on, I shall comply with all of your wishes.”

“Seteth… I’m not…” Her head was starting to feel light again, now that the excitement of seeing everyone was fading again. She stumbled forward, barely catching herself before she fell forward.

“Byleth… have you eaten since you awoke?” Seteth’s green eyes filled her vision as he took hold of her arms, and she shook her head lightly. “How are you still standing?” He shook his head with a frown and wrapped an arm around her waist.

“With increasing difficulty.” She chuckled lightly at Seteth’s grimace. “Let’s convene in the dining hall, it wasn’t in too bad of shape.”

“I should report to the knights that traveled with us. There are a few among them that will be eager to see you.” Seteth smiled softly at her and she tried her best to return one of her own. 

“I must speak with His Highness. He should know what is happening.” Gilbert said.

“Try the Goddess Tower or the Cathedral. That’s where I found him this morning.” Gilbert started to walk away and she called, “Gilbert!” He turned to face her and she murmured, “There are a lot of… bodies. Please, be careful.” She grimaced at the memory of this morning and Gilbert nodded solemnly before walking away.

“Prince Dimitri is alive?” Seteth incredulously spoke from her side. 

“He is, but he’s not… as he once was.” Her voice echoed her sorrow as she stared at the floor.

Seteth whispered, “I’m sorry, Byleth. This all must be… overwhelming.”

She chuckled, but it almost sounded more like a sob. “Yes. I suppose you could call it that.”

Ashe and Bernadetta walked her to the dining hall as Seteth went to report to the knights and get them started on general cleanup of the facilities. When they were finally situated, her former students divided up some of the food they had packed and gave it to her. They didn’t have much, and she felt guilty with each bite she took. It wasn’t enough to completely satiate her appetite, but she felt stronger than she had for the last several hours, so that was consolation enough.

Mercedes, Annette, Dorothea, and Bernadetta all assisted her to the bath house. Miraculously, it looked like everything was still in working order, though all of the soaps and supplies normally provided by the monastery were gone, likely taken by the Imperial soldiers or looters over the last few years. 

She reached up and took off her ruined collar and Bernadetta whimpered. She glanced at the nervous girl, who was pale and trembling. “Bernadetta?”

Mercedes walked forward with healing magic in her palm and pressed it lightly to her neck. When the pain and soreness eased, only then did she realize what had probably set off the poor girl. “I’m okay, Bernadetta, I promise.” She tried to smile, but it seemed the archer was triggered by it. Annette had to drag the trembling girl out of the bath house in order to calm her down.

Dorothea and Mercedes were both watching her carefully when she turned back toward them. When neither of them said anything, Byleth sighed and explained, “Dimitri thought I was like Kronya and Solon when I first found him. He thought I was dead, so…” She wasn’t sure what to say. She trailed off as tears pricked her eyes. Thinking of Dimitri and the state he was in brought up so much guilt and fear. She still wasn’t sure how to process any of it. It didn’t feel real that her golden lion cub had fallen so far.

Dorothea’s mouth was set in a thin and Mercedes bowed her head. The priestess’ voice was soft as she said, “I was so happy to find out His Highness was alive, but it’s hard to see him like this.”

Byleth hesitantly asked, “What… happened? While I was gone?”

Both girls exchanged looks before turning back to her with grim faces. Mercedes hummed softly and began to help her with the straps of her armor. “We all arrived in Evergarden after you called for the retreat. We waited in the village for a while as everyone fled from the monastery. Seteth was the last to arrive…” The priestess trailed off and put a trembling hand in front of her mouth.

“He told us that he saw you fall off the cliff.” Dorothea explained, “Felix and the prince didn’t take it very well. Felix wanted to look for you, but Imperial soldiers tried to pursue us. They were both a mess while we traveled to Fraldarius territory.” Green eyes shone with sympathy as she stroked Byleth’s hand.

Byleth moved her free hand to her chest, and fought off a fresh round of tears as she stared at the floor. Mercedes continued, “About a week after our arrival, Lord Rodrigue received word that His Highness had been accused of regicide. It was announced that His Highness was executed a few days later.” Byleth glanced up at the pale priestess, who fixed her with a sad smile and lightly took her hand. “It must have been terribly hard for him to lose Dedue. I can only imagine what he’s been through the last few years.”

She was contemplating what Mercedes had said while she pulled off her destroyed breastplate. She glanced down at her shirt and realized it was in tatters. As she pulled it off, Mercedes and Dorothea both gasped.

She asked, “What’s wrong?” 

Mercedes pointed to her ribs and whispered, “Professor, what happened?”

She looked down and noticed a long and thick silver scar, that stretched from somewhere under her ruined breast band to a few inches above her navel. She traced it with a trembling finger as Dorothea moved around behind her.

Dorothea’s voice is a horrified whisper as she said, “It’s the same on the back, Professor. You were stabbed all the way through…” After a moment of silence, she added, “You should be dead.”

Suddenly she felt like she was falling off the cliff again as her vision filled with red-orange light. She blinked and it was gone, but the tremble in her hands remained. The girls watched her with concern as she whispered, “I tried to use my sword to stop my fall. I obviously failed.” _What the hell happened to me? How could I possibly survive being stabbed through by the Sword of the Creator and the fall off of the cliff? What the hell did Rhea do to me? What am I?_

Mercedes folded her hands in front of her chest and bowed her head. “It must be by the goddess’ grace that you have returned to us.”

Dorothea chuckled dryly and shook her head. “This is… well… I’m inclined to agree. How else could you explain all of this? The crazy dreams, the fact that the Professor is alive after all of these years…” The songstress went quiet for a while before raising her head to look into Byleth’s eyes. “We’re going to start fighting Edie, aren’t we?”

Byleth took the brunette’s hands in between her own and softly said, “We have to stop this war. We have to put an end to all of the suffering. Will you be able to do it?”

Tears filled the songstress’ beautiful green eyes. “We’ll have to fight Hubie, Petra, and Ferdie, as well. We’re going to kill people we know… people we care about.” Mercedes put a soft hand on Dorothea’s shoulder in support.

“We’ll talk to them, and see if we can get them to end this peacefully.” The songstress looked hopeful, but Byleth shook her head softly. “But if they refuse… we’ll have to stop them.”

Dorothea’s shoulders straightened and her mouth was set in a thin line. “Too many people are suffering, too many people are dying. Edie caused all of this. You’re right, she has to be stopped.”

There was a moment of heavy silence as the women stared at one another. It was broken when Mercedes whispered, “That’s enough talk of war for now, you two. Let’s get the Professor cleaned up.” Mercedes smiled softly and helped her out of the rest of her destroyed clothing before heating water in one of the private tubs.

There was so much to do, and so much she needed to catch up on. Who would fight with them? Who would be leading them? Dimitri wasn’t in any shape to command, but she was sure his title would thrust him into the role either way. Could she do anything to help him? Would she be commanding the Knights of Seiros? She certainly wasn’t qualified for it, but it probably fell under her new responsibilities as the acting archbishop. Her thoughts buzzed as the girls helped her clean herself, and detangled the mess that her seafoam green hair had become while she slept. 

When they stepped out of the bath house, she was immediately crushed into a hug by a sobbing Alois. “You’re alive! Thank the goddess! I thought I had failed the Captain when we couldn’t find you!” She lightly patted his back as his heavy armor crushed her.

“I’m so sorry to make you worry, Alois.” There was a lot that she was sorry for, but that seemed like the safest thing to say at the moment.

“Guess you lucked out.” She smiled and turned to see Shamir and Catherine walking toward her with smiles on their faces.

“We’ve been looking everywhere for you!” Catherine’s excitement faded into a soft frown as she bowed her head. “Though I’m disappointed Lady Rhea isn’t with you… Damn.”

“I’m happy you guys are alright.” She smiled brightly as she looked between them. “Who else is here?”

“Cyril is working on getting things cleaned up, and Hanneman went to check on his research. We’ve all been traveling with Seteth and Flayn for the last couple years as we looked for you. There were no solid leads, until Flayn convinced Seteth that you were at the monastery.” Shamir chuckled dryly and shook her head. “Dreams, people who fall of cliffs and survive... Fodlan really is the oddest place.”

Catherine bumped her with her hip and laughed brightly. “That’s what makes it so exciting, right?” Shamir smiled softly at her and rolled her eyes.

Shamir’s smile dropped as she got back to business. “We came to get you. Seteth and Gilbert want to hold a meeting in the knight’s hall to discuss plans before we all start trying to get things cleaned up.” It was late afternoon, and they had been at the monastery for a couple of hours now. She wondered if Sylvain and Felix had returned yet, but didn’t think now was the time to bring it up.

“Alright, let’s go.”

Seteth nodded to her as she entered and waved her over to stand beside him. Her former students and the others who had come, all stood in a half circle in front of them. Dimitri and Sylvain were there, but Felix was not. She fought to keep her face neutral to avoid showing her disappointment. Sylvain looked exhausted, and she could immediately tell that the easygoing posture and smile were fake. She wondered what had happened with Felix, but there would be time to discuss that later.

Seteth cleared his throat to draw everyone’s attention. “It seems we have been called here by the Goddess, and I believe the purpose is so we may bring an end to this dreadful war.” Nods and murmurs ran through the group as she surveyed them all. “We have two objectives, to overthrow the Empire and to rescue Lady Rhea. I have no objections to joining forces with you. After all, I’m sure our objectives are aligned.”

Gilbert bowed deeply to Seteth and said, “Nothing could be more reassuring than securing the cooperation of the Knights of Seiros. We’ll make Garreg Mach our base, and prepare to make our stand against the Empire. There is a fair amount of damage, but we should at least have shelter from the wind and rain.”

“Surely those Imperial jerks have this place staked out, right?” Catherine called from her place near Shamir, “It’s a highly strategic location.”

Gilbert shook his head firmly. “While it is a strategic location, I think it is too far from the front lines to be worthy of notice at the moment. This area is inconvenient as far as transport time is concerned, so it’s of little importance to their war effort.”

Seteth hummed in thought as he put a hand to his chin. “Even so, nothing slips past the Emperor. It is safe to assume she at least has this place under surveillance.”

“Your Grace, what do you think of making this place our base?” Gilbert’s eyes fell on her and she startled at the use of the title.

“Please, just call me Byleth or Professor. I’m not…” She huffed slightly and shook her head, “Your Grace is far too formal for my position.” Gilbert shook his head and opened his mouth, probably to refuse and lecture her on formalities, but she cut him off as she said, “I have no objections. However, supplies will be difficult to obtain from here. I’ve been informed of the instability of the area.”

Gilbert nodded thoughtfully. “Fortunately, there are still villages and hamlets nearby. And though I wouldn’t call them abundant, we have war funds, as well.” He turned to Dimitri and asked, “What do you think Your Highness?”

Dimitri crossed his arms and grunted. “Do as you please.” Everyone in the room stiffened at the hostility of his tone.

“Hey!” Annette exclaimed, “Don’t act like this doesn’t concern you! We finally reunited after all this time… we’ve got to work together!”

Sylvain’s smile and cheery tone were forced as he added, “She’s right. In fact, why don’t we all join forces and clean this place up a bit?”

Annette’s face brightened. “Ooh yeah! That’s a great idea! And it will give us time to reminisce about all the good old days at the Academy. I can’t wait!” It was so weird to have all of these little reminders about how much time had passed for them. “The good old days” felt like a few days ago for her.

Dimitri snorted derisively and shook his head. “How carefree of you.” Annette’s face fell into a sad frown as she looked down at the ground.

Ashe wrapped a comforting arm around her and said, “It may sound trivial, but… well I think it’s a good idea.” Annette smiled softly at him and he nodded.

“I understand feeling impatient, Your Highness.” Gilbert shook his head sternly. “But patience is key at a time like this. If we fix up our base, it will improve morale, which will be sorely needed as we--”

“Fools.” Dimitri glared daggers at her as the others turned to look at him. She stood firm under his hostile gaze.

“Dimitri, this is important. The morale of your troops is vital in war.” She softly said.

He threateningly stepped toward her and bellowed, “Stay out of this!” She fought to keep her face neutral as her unbeating heart shattered in her chest. Seteth stepped slightly in front of her, shoulders rigidly set.

Gilbert pleaded, “Please, calm yourself Your Highness. We are not your enemies.”

Dimitri’s icy blue eye didn’t leave hers as he uttered, “My enemies say the same.” He grunted and turned away, stalking out the doors as everyone’s eyes followed him.

“I feel so bad for him…” Mercedes softly shook her head. “Is there something we can do to help him?”

Gilbert shook his head solemnly. “I cannot claim to understand how he feels. However… the way he’s behaving… it’s like he’s being haunted by some unseen force.”

 _Because he thinks he is._ She didn’t dare to say such a thing out loud, instead she said, “I’m worried about him. He was in in a terrible state when I found him this morning... I fear he’s been alone in his grief and suffering for far too long.”

Gilbert nodded with a small frown. “Perhaps…” He sighed heavily and looked around the group. “It has been an eventful day. We should all try to get some rest. We can discuss further plans tomorrow.” He bowed to her before turning and leaving.

The group all looked to one another, before slowly trickling out. She tried to catch Sylvain’s eye but… _Is he… avoiding me?_ Her suspicion seemed to be confirmed when he quickly walked out without even glancing at her. Worry ran through her, and she moved to follow him, but was stopped by a light hand on her arm. “Are we sure that allying ourselves with the prince is the best idea? He seems especially… hostile.” Seteth’s tone was even, but she thought there was a tinge of anxiety to it.

“We have no choice, Seteth. If we wish to end this war and find Rhea, we will need all of the troops we can get.”

Seteth nodded. “I am glad you also wish to find Rhea. I know that your feelings toward her were… complicated.”

She shook her head firmly and removed her arm from Seteth’s grasp. “Do not misunderstand. I wish to find Rhea because she is the only one who can tell me what she did to me, not due to any sort of fondness for her. I only wish to find Rhea because I need to know what I am.” 

“What you are…? Seteth hesitantly asked.

She moved to unbutton part of the bodice of the dress Mercedes had leant to her, and Seteth balked at her. She shook her head firmly and opened it to reveal the scar between her ribs. Seteth visibly paled as she said, “I was stabbed through by the Sword of the Creator and I fell from a cliff. I should be dead, Seteth. Not only that, I lost five years of my life. What am I if I could survive, and sleep for five years straight?”

Seteth glanced around their surroundings and lightly took her arm. “Let us speak in my office. It is hardly appropriate to…” He pointed toward her still bared midriff, “discuss this here.”

Once she had buttoned her dress back up, he dragged her up the stairs to his office, before closing and locking the door. It looked like nothing had been touched in the room. You wouldn’t be able to tell how much time had passed, save for the layer of dust over everything. He leaned against the desk and sighed heavily. “Rhea shared no further details with me before the Battle of Garreg Mach. I don’t have any more answers for you. I cannot fathom the confusion you must feel, but you must not show any form of hostility toward her near the knights. They will be looking toward you as a leader and a symbol. It would be unwise to shake the faith they have in you as the…” 

When he trailed off, she rolled her eyes and said, “Vessel for the goddess that Rhea claims me to be? I’m not Sothis, Seteth, and I never will be. Rhea may wish me to be, hell, you may wish me to be… but I’m not. And it won’t ever happen if I have anything to say about it.” She narrowed her eyes at the advisor, who visibly stiffened.

“If I have ever given any indication that I wish for that, I am deeply sorry.” He shook his head with a slight frown. “If I had known of Rhea’s intentions, I would have done something to stop it.”

Frustration flared within her and she sharply asked, “How long have you known Rhea?” 

Seteth’s expression visibly shuttered as he answered, “Many, many years.”

“That’s vague.” When he didn’t provide any further explanation she asked, “Then how long have you been at the monastery? How long have you been working for her?” She stepped into his space as he stared straight into her eyes.

He curtly answered, “I do not see what this information has to do with anything. We were discussing Rhea, not me.” 

She groaned in frustration and turned away from him. Her eyes landed on a tapestry of a dragon that hung on his wall, and her body went rigid. Pain blossomed at her temples for the second time that day, and her surroundings faded away. She watched an emerald dragon soared through the sky, raining fire down on his enemies. Cichol’s furious roar filled her with grief as she… 

The vision left as quickly as it had come, like sand slipping through her fingers. “Cichol…” She blinked and her head was in Seteth’s lap as he frantically said her name.

“What did you just say?” Wide emerald eyes filled her vision as some emotion she couldn’t quite place stirred within her chest. The image felt so familiar, like a dream or a memory she couldn’t fully remember. She didn’t know why or how, but it stirred some sort of grief or longing. She couldn’t remember ever seeing an emerald dragon fly through the air, raining fire on their enemies, so why was this happening? 

And the name Cichol… she remembered that from her studies when she first arrived at the monastery. It was one of the Saints, but the Saints were human… right? The statues in the cathedral depicted them as such. But Rhea turned into the Immaculate One the day of the battle, so that must mean something.

The pain in her head persisted and she groaned softly. Distantly she could hear Seteth calling something out, but it sounded so far away.“Cichol…” Seteth went still and she cracked open her eyes to see him peering down at her. “Was Cichol a… dragon? Was he like Rhea?”

“Don’t try to speak, Byleth. I called for a healer. Someone will be here shortly.” Seteth was tense as he laid her head down on the ground.

She weakly grabbed his shirt front and he moved to hover over her. “No, Seteth! This feels important. It’s… Cichol… he was…”

She was interrupted when Flayn ran into the room. “Professor? What happened?” 

“We were speaking and she suddenly collapsed.” Poor Seteth’s voice was full of worry as he stared down at her, peeking glances at his daughter. Healing magic washed over Byleth and she sighed audibly as the warmth eased the pain in her head.

“Seteth!” She sat up quickly, pulling on his shirt as the world spun slightly. “Tell me about Cichol.”

Flayn took a sharp breath as Seteth moved his hands to hers, now firmly fisted in his tunic. “Cichol was a Saint, Byleth. Honestly, you’re supposed to be the acting archbishop.” He rolled his eyes, but his reaction and tone rang false in her ears.

“I saw him. He was… a dragon. He was raining fire down on his enemies. He was…” She shivered and Seteth and Flayn both looked at her in concern. “He was so angry… I felt… grief…” She looked between them and whispered, “I don’t know what is happening to me.”

“Father…” Flayn looked to Seteth, who shook his head sharply.

“You know something.” She still had a grip on Seteth’s shirt, and she pulled him in closer as his gaze hardened. “You know something about why I slept, and you know something about this. Why are you keeping it from me?” Her voice was pleading, but with the fact that her head was still buzzing from whatever had just happened, she could hardly fight it.

“I don’t know why this is happening, Byleth. I’m sorry.” Seteth gently unhooked her hands from his tunic and eased them down to her lap. She looked back up at the tapestry that hung on Seteth’s wall, but nothing happened. She sighed and hung her head, moving her hands to rub her temples as she did so. “Maybe you just need some sleep.” Seteth offered her a hand to help her up, but she didn’t take it.

As she moved to standing, she scoffed. “I think I’ve had enough sleep to last a lifetime. There’s too much to do, too much to think about, and so many questions to ask.” Flayn took her hand, and she squeezed it lightly. “How do you sleep when you’ve missed so much?” _How do I know it won’t happen again?_ The fear was like ice in her veins at the very thought. If she had slept for five years, what would happen if she was injured again? How long could she sleep the next time? 

Flayn pulled her into a tight hug and murmured, “I’m so sorry, Professor.” 

She patted Flayn on the head and tried to smile, but tears gathered in Flayn’s eyes, so it probably didn’t work. “I’ll see with you both later. There’s some things I need to take care of.”

“It really is good to see you again, Byleth.” Seteth sounded sincere, but she couldn’t even look at him right now. She couldn’t shake the feeling that they were keeping something from her, and it hurt to know that they would do that. After everything she had done for Flayn, and after everything she had sacrificed to try and save Rhea, Seteth still didn’t fully trust her.

She reached the bottom of the stairs and came to a stop. There were so many things she should do, so many people she should check on. She was almost desperate to see Felix and Sylvain again, to try and repair what had certainly been broken there. Felix’s face when he had stormed off flashed through her mind, and was closely followed by Sylvain’s strained mask in the meeting they had. 

She knew she should also go and try to check on Dimitri. Maybe if she could talk to him, explain where she had been all this time, maybe she could help him to crawl back out of the darkness. She could only imagine what being alone for almost five years had done to his psyche. The thought of being alone, with only the angry ghosts of your dead loved ones to keep you company, sent a chill down her spine.

She should also take the opportunity to catch up with her other former students. Surely, they had all been through many hardships over the last few years, especially her students who had been part of the Black Eagle house. Where had they been? What have they been doing since she was gone? Would all of her former students be ready to fight?

The decision was made for her as a call of, “PROOOFFESSSOR!” rang out from somewhere near the Knight’s Hall. “Hey! Has anybody seen the Professor?” _Is that…_ She took a few steps until she entered the courtyard next to the stairs to the graveyard. She turned in the direction of the knight’s hall and when her eyes landed on light blue hair called, “Caspar?”

The brawler spotted her and let out a holler of delight that brought a genuine smile to her face. He sprinted forward, hitting her with the force of a stampeding demonic beast, and twirled her around until the whole world was spinning much too quickly. Caspar’s joy was infectious, alleviating some of the pressure she had been feeling since arriving at the monastery. A laugh bubbled through her, and she realized just how much she needed this.

“Oh man! I just knew you were gonna to be here!” Once he had set her down, the brawler fist pumped the air and let out another holler. “Hilda owes me one hundred gold!”

She grinned as she took in Caspar’s features. He had certainly filled out and gotten taller in the last couple of years, and he’d grown out the top of his hair in a way that suited his more chiseled face. His grin was just as wide and boyish as ever as he grabbed her into another hug, seemingly too excited to do just about anything else. “I’m so glad you are safe, Caspar. I was worried when you didn’t show up with the others.”

“Oh yeah! I was so excited to see you, I almost forgot!” He grabbed her hand and started to haul her down the pathway, in the direction of the monastery gates. “You gotta come with me.”

“Come with you, where?”

He turned and in a not quiet at all whisper said, “It’s a secret.”

She bit back a laugh as she followed him all the way to the gates. She resisted slightly when he continued to walk past them, entering the trees just outside. “Caspar… you need to tell me where we’re going now.” The further they got from the monastery, the more nervous she became. She didn’t know what the brawler had been doing while she slept. She didn’t want to think the worst, but she wondered if this was some kind of…

“Professor!” A sing song tone rang through the air as they entered a clearing. In the waning evening light, she could see a massive wyvern. Standing beside it was Hilda, hands on her hips in mock affront. “Leave it to you to come back from the freaking dead. Now I owe Caspar gold!” She mock whined as she ran forward and enveloped Byleth in a hug that was almost as tight as Caspar’s. _Delicate flower my ass…_

“Hilda! Why are you all the way out here?” She tilted her head to the side as she stepped back from Hilda’s embrace.

“Mr. Leader Man said I had to be inconspicuous about our little meeting if you were really alive. Can you believe him? I come all the way out here to deliver Caspar here, and I can’t even sleep in a bed before flying back?!” She folded her arms and gave an exaggerated pout.

There was a lot to unpack in that sentence. She settled on asking, “Mr. Leader Man?”

“Oh! You don’t know? Claude is the head of the Alliance now.” Hilda lifted an eyebrow and looked Byleth over with a critical eye. “But enough about that. Where the heck have you been, and what in Fodlan are you wearing?!” She grabbed Mercedes' white flowing button up dress and held it out. “Unless your style has vastly changed in the last five years? I mean… this is quite the change up from that, weirdly works for you, booty shorts and tights combo.”

“Hold on…” Byleth raised a hand to stop Hilda’s little tirade about her fashion sense, which was fair because she basically didn’t have one. “Claude is the leader of the Alliance now? When did that happen?”

Hilda rolled her eyes, put upon by the change of topic, and dropped the skirt of Mercedes’ dress. “About two years ago when old man Riegan passed away. He’s had a pretty tough go of it, to be honest. I don’t envy the guy.” She walked over to Caspar, who promptly wrapped an arm around her and nodded in confirmation with a look of sympathy. _Interesting…_

“How is he? Is he okay?” The note of concern in her voice earned a sympathetic look from Hilda.

“Yeah, he’s fine. Don’t you worry about him, Professor. I’ll be sure to tell him you were worried though!” The exaggerated wink from Hilda made heat rush to Byleth’s cheeks, though she hoped it was dark enough that they couldn’t tell. She had a sneaking suspicion that Hilda was a bit too observant for her to slip by, though. “He sent me with a gift for you.” She nudged Caspar and said, “Will you go get it, baby? I’m just so tired from the flight.”

“You got it!” Caspar enthusiastically called as he bounded over and grabbed a travel bag from the wyvern’s saddlebags.

“Now spill.” She turned back to Hilda, who had her hands firmly planted on her hips. “Where in the heck have you been? Claude had a bunch of people looking for you, and your crew has been looking everywhere for any information on you.”

 _My crew!_ She immediately felt guilty that she hadn’t spared a thought for her father’s crew since she woke up. “I’ve been… sleeping.”

Hilda giggled and tossed her hair. “Umm… Professor? Being lazy is my job. Now where were you really?”

Byleth shook her head and looked down at the ground. “I really was sleeping. I woke up in a river last night and made my way here. Edelgard’s invasion feels like three days ago, not almost five years.”

Caspar laughed and looped the travel pack on Byleth’s shoulder. “Man, I bet Linhardt’s super jealous!” He paused and then asked, “Lin is here right? He’s safe?”

Byleth nodded. “Yup. I think he was worried when you weren’t here this morning. He’ll be eager to see you.”

“I should go and let him know I’m okay.” Caspar turned to Hilda, who groaned as she turned toward him as well. She grabbed onto the front of his armor and pulled him in for a _very indecent_ kiss as the young brawler reddened and reciprocated. When he was eventually (finally) released, he chuckled and rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly as he sent an awkward glance Byleth’s way. 

“Now I know how much you LOVE a good fight, but you better be at least a little careful for me, okay?” Hilda patted his cheek, which earned a big smile.

“You’re the best, you know that?” Caspar pecked her lips with one more kiss before shouting, “I’ll see you back at the monastery, Professor!” and running off.

Hilda sighed dramatically and turned back to Byleth, who couldn’t keep the grin off her face. “Caspar, huh?” 

Hilda giggled into her fists and nodded. “What can I say? I find his antics… entertaining.” She winked and sighed again, though it sounded more genuine this time. “He’s so sure you guys are going to fight the Empire…” when Byleth didn’t say anything on the contrary she softly asked, “You’ll look out for him for me, won’t you Professor?”

“Of course, Hilda.” Pressure settled on her chest again, but she tried to push it away and focus on Hilda. “So, what is Claude’s “gift”?”

Hilda groaned dramatically and pushed her long pink hair over her shoulder. “I told him giving you your own stuff back was hardly a gift, but he wouldn’t listen to any of my advice on the matter.” Byleth lifted an eyebrow and opened the strings of the pack. “I went through all the trouble of suggesting things and he had the gall to ignore it.”

Byleth let out a sigh of relief as she knelt down and dumped the contents of the bag on the ground. It held all of the items she had packed and sent to Evergarden before the siege, a few changes of clothes, medical supplies, and most importantly… 

“My father’s journal.” She whispered it like a prayer as she picked it up and held it to her chest. The infamous journal that she STILL hadn’t had an opportunity to spend much time reading, due to the events that immediately transpired after Claude gave it back to her. She held it out in front of her and opened the cover, and a sealed letter fell into her lap. Her fingers itched to see what Claude had to say, but she refrained and looked back up at Hilda.

“Thank you so much for bringing this. All of my belongings were trashed after Edelgard’s attack. I was worried I had nothing to my name.” She chuckled dryly and Hilda grimaced.

“If I had known that, I would have brought more. Maybe next trip I’ll bring you more surprises.” Hilda winked and put a hand on her hip.

“Next trip?” Byleth paused in her efforts to put her things back in the travel pack and raised an eyebrow at the pinkette.

“Claude has signed me up for his little scheme to keep contact with you.” Hilda whined as she rolled her eyes. “I have to come back here again to deliver your letters! Can you believe it? Hilda Goneril, mail carrier. That’s going to be so exhausting!”

“Why does he need a scheme for that?” Byleth paused to think before she whispered, “He’s not allied with Edelgard, is he?” She couldn’t fight the instinct to put her hand on her dagger as she looked Hilda over.

“No! Nothing like that, silly. I’m sure he explained it in his love letter, but the Alliance is technically neutral in the war. Claude’s been holding Edelgard off since she’s been so focused on trying to subdue the Kingdom rebels.” She visibly softened and glanced toward the monastery. “Is everybody okay? Claude says they’ve had it pretty rough.”

Byleth fought off a frown, but obviously didn’t succeed because Hilda immediately looked sympathetic. “I’m so sorry, Professor. I bet today has been really tough.”

“Thank you, Hilda. I really appreciate all you’ve done.” Byleth stood and threw the pack over her shoulder. “Will you… tell Claude I said hello?” There was so much more she’d like to say, but without a quill and parchment she could hardly ask the millions of questions she had for him. He would probably be interested in her little image flashes, as well. Not to mention the fact that she knew Rhea was the Immaculate One. Picturing what his face would look like when he got the information brought a small smile to her face.

“Should I be giving him a kiss for you?” Hilda winked and giggled into her fists as Byleth vehemently shook her head with what was probably an incriminating flush across her cheeks. “Relax, Professor… I’m just teasing you.” She stepped forward and pulled Byleth into another tight hug. “I really am happy you’re okay. No more almost dying, okay?” Hilda released her, and then walked over to mount her wyvern. “See ya around, Professor!”   


Knowing that her old room was out of commission, Byleth walked toward her father’s old office. She had to jimmy the lock, but once she did, she stopped in the doorway. Her father’s old office was similar to Seteth’s in the fact that it was untouched. She walked forward and ran her fingers over the dusty desk, before sitting in her father’s old chair. Melancholy hit her when she realized that tomorrow would be the fifth anniversary of his death. It didn’t seem fair, when for her it felt like less than three months ago.

He pulled out Claude’s letter and broke the yellow Riegan Crest seal. 

**_Teach!_ **

**_My friend, you really know how to keep a guy waiting. Caspar told me about his dream, and something about it feels like fate. I knew you must be out there somewhere, friend. Though, I do wonder where you’ve been hiding. I’ve had people searching all over Fodlan for you._ **

**_I’ve already sent your crew your way. Joel was kind enough to give me your things for safe keeping, so I’ve sent those along with Hilda for you. Don’t worry, I’ve kept your father’s journal under lock and key. I’ve poured over the pages so many times, searching for any sort of answers I could find, but I feel like I’m missing a piece of the puzzle. I think that piece is you._ **

**_Teach, I heard about Dimitri’s execution. There are rumors that he might still be out there, but if those rumors are true, he’s in no position to lead. Come to the Alliance. With you by my side, I know we could end this war. We could bring on a new dawn for all of Fodlan._ **

**_I’ve arranged for Hilda to meet you at that same spot on the 15th of the next moon. She’ll whine and tell you that I’ve roped her into a scheme, but really, she’s more than happy to do it if you bring Caspar along for the meeting. We have to keep our correspondence secret. If the other Lords of the Alliance find out I’m in contact with you, I’ll lose the little foothold I’ve been fighting for over the last two years._ **

**_I’ve missed you, friend. I hope to see you soon._ **

**_Until then,_ **

**_Claude von Riegan_ **

She ran a finger over Claude’s signature and sighed. She couldn’t go to him, she knew that. Too many people here were relying on her, and she couldn’t abandon her Lions. Dimitri needed her help, and she had abandoned Felix and Sylvain for long enough. 

With the way things stood right now, the line between allies and enemies was thin. If the Alliance was really neutral, she could see no reason they would need to fight them. She certainly hoped that would remain the case. The thought of having to fight Claude and the rest of the students from the Alliance left a bitter taste in her mouth. It was hard enough to try and think of what she would need to do about Edelgard and those that had taken her side.

Exhaustion pulled at her as she sat back in her father’s chair, but the thought of sleep was… unappealing. She pulled out the pack that Hilda had brought, and pulled out her old clothes. They smelled clean, so she figured Claude must have taken care of them for her. She changed out of Mercedes dress and folded it neatly before setting it on her father’s desk. After burning Claude’s letter, she set the travel pack on the chair and walked out the door.

She really needed to check on her friends.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alright... I know we're all worried about Sylvain and Felix... but there was SO MUCH ground to cover with Byleth. Like... holy cow. Sorry this chapter wasn't super exciting, but it was extremely long so that means something, right?
> 
> I figure after several hours of not eating anything and having to fight, Byleth's body would be pretty weak. I thought it'd be an interesting dynamic for the students, and for her. It's not like Dimitri pulled a Claude and had a picnic before fighting some bandits. He's too busy being feral.


	3. Reunion at Dawn (Part 3)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sylvain has feelings. Lot of them. Life is hard.

~Sylvain~

It took him a while to finally have the strength to pick himself up off the ground where Felix left him. Felix’s haunted voice, the fiery red of his glare, the hurt when he yelled to not touch him, it all played over and over in Sylvain’s mind as he fought to become solid, instead of the formless puddle that he’d let himself become. It borderline destroyed him when he realized that he’s fucked up the only good thing in his life, and Felix arguably wasn’t even his yet.

 _“Of course, you wouldn’t be able to make Felix happy.”_ That ugly voice in the back of his mind that sounds hauntingly like Miklan hissed. _“Why would he stay with someone like you? How could he trust you when all you’re known for is your pretty words and your wandering eye? You could never be faithful. You could never be what he needs.”_

Sylvain rubbed his palms against his eyelids until he saw splashes of color, and fought to take a deep breath. All of these _feelings_ were pounding against his skull and dancing around in his chest cavity. He felt guilty for feeling so happy that Byleth was back. He felt confused by the fluttering in the pit of his stomach. His heart hadn’t stopped racing since he first laid eyes on seafoam green hair. He felt hurt about Felix leaving him like this, and he felt angry that he had caused it.

“I can’t do this”, he muttered to himself as he finally stood, “I have to get back to the monastery.” His eyes stayed fixed on the point where he had last seen Felix’s retreating figure, and longing pulled him forward a few steps until he shook himself out of it. 

_“There’s no “we”, not anymore.”_

He feels dangerous. He wants to run. He wants to fight. He wants to rip and hurt and maim, and the thought is terrifying. He wants to hurt, more than the ache in his chest. He wants to really hurt, like it would take away from the fact that his heart is aching. Would it? Would it stop the ache? Maybe he just needs a drink. Maybe he just needs to fuck. 

The idea leaves a sour taste in his mouth… but why? 

Pale skin, raven hair wrapped around his fingers, amber eyes, flushed cheeks. _“Let’s just take a chance to be just us, before everything else comes around to try and ruin it.”_

“FUCK!” Birds scattered at his yell, and he pulled at his hair until his eyes watered again.

 _“You already ruined it, just like you ruin everything else.”_ the Miklan voice sneered. 

His knees hit the dirt as another wave of guilt and hurt crashed over him, stifling the very air in his lungs. “Fuck…” he whimpered as he sat back on his heels.

He somehow made it back to the monastery sometime in the late afternoon. Riding slowly through the gates on the back of his horse, he was immediately stopped by a Knight of Seiros. It took them awhile to find Seteth. (who was apparently at the monastery even though Sylvain was pretty sure it was abandoned… but whatever.) Seteth then confirmed that he was supposed to be there. Emerald green eyes burned into his before Seteth said, “We will be holding a meeting in the Knight’s Hall as soon as Byleth is done washing up.”

He nodded absentmindedly and waved as he walked his horse in the direction of the stables. A squire took the reins from him, and Sylvain threw his travel pack over his shoulder. He took a moment to plaster his grin on and walked into the Knight’s Hall. He was immediately pounced on by a frustrated Ingrid. “Where the hell were you?! Where is Felix?! The Professor was worried sick!” Others turned to look at him, before going back to their quiet conversations and catching up.

He teased, “You know, she’s not your Professor anymore, she hasn’t been for almost five years. You could just call her by her name.” He definitely didn’t want to talk to Ingrid about any of this.

He wasn’t expecting the slight flush as Ingrid crossed her arms and scoffed in a very Felix-like manner. _Fuck that hurts._ His smile ached as Ingrid opened her mouth to reply, but the reply died in her throat as her eyes went wide.

Sylvain looked over his shoulder and bit back a grimace as Dimitri walked into the Knight’s Hall, closely followed by a grim-faced Gustave. But hey, that wasn’t new. What WAS new was the smell that came from Dimitri as he parted the group like a boat on the water, moving to stand at the center like he always did when they were students. What was also new was the aura of “if you get within six feet of me, I’ll cut you down where you stand”. It went without saying that the others gave him a wide berth.

Ingrid looked… devastated. That was really the only word for it. She had sent numerous letters in her grief after Dimitri’s supposed execution. She went on and on about how she had failed His Highness, how she regretted the fact that she didn’t do more to try and help him. How she missed him, and their childhood days when everything was so much simpler. Sylvain had tried his hardest to be supportive, but he was still going through his grief after Byleth’s supposed death. 

Like the very thought could summon her, Byleth walked into the room. His chest tightened painfully as he took in freshly cleaned seafoam green hair and weary eyes. Those weary eyes traveled over each of them as she moved to stand at Seteth’s side, dressed in a long white button up dress that was surely not hers. Mercedes, Dorothea, Catherine, Shamir, and Alois all walked in behind her and took their respective places among the group facing Byleth and Seteth. 

Seteth cleared his throat and leveled them all with his stare. “It seems we have been called here by the Goddess, and I believe the purpose is so we may bring the end to this dreadful war.” Sylvain was missing something.

He glanced over at Ingrid who whispered, “The Professor said the young girl’s voice from the dream was the goddess.” 

_The… goddess? The frustrated voice from his dreams… was Sothis? The same Sothis that Byleth spoke of? Sothis was sending him dreams for five years?_ The thought made him feel a tangled mixture of panic, guilt, grief, confusion, and anger. He fought to keep his grin plastered on his face, but something must have flickered across his expression because Ingrid shot him a genuine look of concern. He sent back his standard grin and a wink, which had her hesitantly shaking her head, but he ignored it and turned his attention back to the group.

“We have two objectives, to overthrow the Empire and the rescue Lady Rhea. I have no objections to joining forces with you. After all, I’m sure our objectives are aligned.” Sylvain would be perfectly fine with never seeing Lady Rhea ever again. Judging by the strain at the corner of Byleth’s eyes, he was willing to bet she thought the same.

Gilbert bowed too formally and said, “Nothing could be more reassuring than securing the cooperation of the Knights of Seiros. We’ll make Garreg Mach our base, and prepare to make our stand against the Empire. There is a fair amount of damage, but we should at least have shelter from the wind and rain.”

“Surely those Imperial jerks have this place staked out, right?” Catherine looked good, with her hair slightly longer than it had been in the Academy days with a little more age to her face. She had to be in her early thirties now, right? Shamir was standing close to her, really close. He idly wondered how long that had been going on. “It’s a highly strategic location.”

Gilbert’s gravel toned voice responded, “While it is strategic location, I think it is too far from the front lines to be worthy of notice at the moment. This area is inconvenient as far as transport time is concerned, so it’s of little importance to the war effort.”

Seteth was stoic as ever as he hummed and said, “Even so, nothing slips past the Emperor. It is safe to assume she at least has this place under surveillance.”

“Your Grace,” If Sylvain’s heart didn’t skip a beat at the title, the widening of Byleth’s eyes would have been comical. “What do you think of making this our base.” Another glance at Ingrid earned him an awed looking nod before she shook her head in a “I know, right?” manner. _Byleth is the acting archbishop with Rhea gone, then? It sort of makes sense with the whole goddess thing… but she doesn’t know much about the church. She’s probably freaking out._

“Please, just call me Byleth or Professor. I’m not…” she huffed, looking slightly exasperated and added, “Your Grace is too formal for my position.” She paused before adding, “I have no objections. However, supplies will be difficult to obtain from here. I’ve been informed of the instability of the area.”

It was interesting to watch how she held the attention of the room. All eyes were on her, and everyone seemed to hang on her every word. Even Gilbert and Seteth listened with rapt attention, even though they were both considerably more experienced and considerably older. Even with how weary she looked, she commanded respect and exuded authority. She might feel awkward about it, but she made a good leader.

Gilbert nodded and said, “Fortunately, there are still villages and hamlets nearby. And though I wouldn’t call them abundant, we have war funds, as well.” He turned to Dimitri on his left and asked, “What do you think Your Highness?”

You could cut the tension in the room with a sword as Dimitri grunted and in a hostile tone said, “Do as you please.”

“Hey!” Annette snapped out of her shock faster than the rest of them and called, “Don’t act like this doesn’t concern you! We finally reunited after all this time… we’ve got to work together!”

When no one else immediately said something, Sylvain added in his cheeriest tone, “She’s right. In fact, why don’t we all join forces and clean this place up a bit?” Maybe the manual labor would be enough to pull his mind away from what a crapfest this day had been so far.

Annette brightened with a grateful look shot his direction. “Ooh yeah! That’s a great idea! And it will give us time to reminisce about all the good old days at the Academy. I can’t wait!” The physical pain that shot through his chest made him grimace before he could catch himself. 

His good old Academy days were filled with Felix and Byleth. As were the worst ones, but at least they had each other through them. Felix was gone, probably somewhere hurting and angry. Byleth was right in front of him, but looking at her had the same effect as looking at the sun for too long, it made his eyes sting and he felt the need to shy away from her before he burned where he stood. He wanted to be closer, but he also wanted to run away. All of the conflicting emotions were making his head hurt.

Dimitri snorted derisively, something Dimitri from five years ago never would have done, and spat, “How carefree of you.”

Ashe wrapped a comforting arm around Annette and retorted, “It may sound trivial, but… well I think it’s a good idea.” He was obviously still nervous in the presence of the Crowned Prince, doubly so with the menacing air about him, so the fact that he stood up for Annette was sickeningly sweet.

“I understand feeling impatient, Your Highness. But patience is key in a time like this. If we fix up our base, it will improve morale, which will be sorely needed as we—”

Gilbert’s pleading was cut off by Dimitri’s growled, “Fools.” Byleth’s green eyes were carefully neutral as Dimitri’s shoulders squared in what looked like an attempt of intimidation. He dwarfed her, standing at least a head and a half taller and his cape made him look even larger. 

She didn’t budge. Her voice was similar to her lectures during the Academy days as she said, “Dimitri, this is important. The morale of your troops is vital in war.” 

Dimitri took a hostile step toward her with his long stride, and something primal and protective unfurled in Sylvain's chest. He pushed it back, digging his nails into the flesh of his palms until they hurt. Seteth stepped in front of Byleth, looking ready to throw down with the Prince after he bellowed, “Stay out of this!” 

Ingrid was drawn up like a bowstring, her eyes openly panicked at the scene before her. Sylvain couldn’t blame her. Byleth had always had an effect on Dimitri, but never like this. As much as he used to hate it back then, he’d switch this open hostility for the clumsy flirting and blushing bashfulness any day. 

Why was he acting this way toward her? He had been just as devastated as Felix was when Seteth told them she had fallen. He had ranted and raved that he was going to make Edelgard pay for her death. Had he really become so boarish, to use Felix’s term, that he wasn’t even happy to see her? Not only not happy to see her, but openly hostile towards her?

Gilbert’s voice was pleading as he tried to placate the prince. “Please, calm yourself Your Highness. We are not your enemies.”

Dimitri growled, “My enemies say the same.” before stalking out of the room. Sylvain stepped aside and watched him walk out, and when he turned back, he just barely caught Byleth’s hand lightly touching her neck before dropping back to her side.

“I feel so bad for him…” Mercedes shook her head, the veil on her hat ruffling slightly at the movement. “Is there anything we can do to help him?”

Gilbert shook his head, looking slightly defeated. “I cannot claim to understand how he feels. However… the way he’s behaving… it’s like he’s being haunted by some unseen force.” Dimitri had moments like that all the time back at the Academy, but it seemed to have manifested as an entire personality change after his isolation. He couldn’t help but feel guilty, like he should have done more to look for his childhood friend. Then again, he should have done more to look for Byleth. He was really losing on all fronts today.

Something flickered across Byleth’s features, before they dropped back to careful neutrality. “I’m worried about him. He was in a terrible state when I found him this morning… I fear he’s been alone with his grief and suffering for far too long.” The sorrow that was laced through her tone sent a spike of something hot and hurt through him. He didn’t pay attention to whatever Gilbert said. He waited for people to start leaving, and as soon as he wouldn’t be noticed, he fled.

He practically ran through the doors and headed in the direction of his dorm room as the hot and hurt feeling twisted and snarled in his chest. He bowed his head, trying to avoid any conversation, but he didn’t succeed.

“S-Sylvain?” Bernadetta’s hesitant voice was quite possibly the only one that could have stopped him in his tracks with the way he was currently feeling. He turned slowly and tried his best to smooth his features into a soft smile as the archer walked toward him like a she was approaching a wild animal. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah, Bernadetta! I’m totally fine! What’s up?” His tone was cheery and unbelievably strained.

Bernadetta chewed at her bottom lip for a moment and looked him over. “Um… is Felix back yet? The Professor said you went after him, but I haven’t seen him. I guess I’m just a little worried…” He winced before he could stop it, and her eyes widened as she took a step back before whimpering, “I’m sorry! I really shouldn’t bother you.”

Sylvain sighed and placed a hand on her shoulder, and she flinched at the contact before relaxing slightly. He suddenly realized why she was so wound up. He knew how much of a touchstone Felix was for her whenever she left the safety of her room at Fraldarius. It must be hard, being here around all of these people without having the person she normally latched onto.

“Bern? Is everything okay?” Sylvain’s eyes darted over to the _delicious_ sight of Dorothea in her _absolutely sinful_ dress walking toward them. Bernadetta latched onto her arm as she got close, and Dorothea gave a soft smile. “Hey… are you still worried about the Professor? She’s going to be okay, Bern.”

His voice was strained as he said, “Worried about the Professor?” He cleared his throat and threw his arms behind his head. “What did I miss?”

The question had Bernadetta trembling as she dug her fingers into Dorothea’s arms. Sylvain immediately dropped his arms and stepped forward to put a hand on her shoulder. “Hey… why don’t I help you get your room cleaned out? Would that help you feel a little better?”

The wide eyed look of relief on her face was enough to banish Sylvain’s twisted feelings to a dark corner in the back of his mind. He smiled softly and held out an arm for her, which she immediately latched onto. Dorothea gave him what could only be considered an appraising look and followed close behind as they walked through the grounds toward Bernadetta’s room.

Bernadetta practically sprinted as they rounded the corner toward her dorm. Sylvain had never seen her move so fast. When she opened the door, she sighed heavily with relief and slammed the door, before promptly remembering he and Dorothea were still there and hesitantly opening it back up.

“Do you need a minute, Bern? We can wait out here until you’re ready to start cleaning up?” Dorothea softly said. Sylvain nodded in agreement, and the purple-haired archers lip quivered. 

She mumbled, “Y-You guys are too nice to me.”

“Hey now, anything for you, Bernadetta.” Her lip quivered some more and in a softer tone he said, “We’ll give you a minute.” She mumbled a quick “thank you” and shut the door.

Sylvain sighed heavily and moved to sit down on the steps near her door. “That was awfully kind of you.” Dorothea’s voice was laced with suspicion as she gracefully moved to sit beside him.

“Felix isn’t here, and he’s normally the one who helps her out when she has to leave Fraldarius. He’s preoccupied, so I figured I’d lend a hand.” He gave an easy-going smile and winked.

“I must admit, that is a friendship I NEVER saw coming.” Dorothea giggled melodically and tossed her hair back. “Though he did help her out of a tough spot right before Edie’s invasion.” Her sparkling green eyes noticeably dimmed, and Sylvain reached out to take her hand.

“Are you okay?” It was genuine, and her eyes snapped up in surprise.

“I suppose it’s hard being back here, and harder still knowing what’s to come.” She sighed and it sounded like she had the weight of the world on her shoulders. Though they both knew they were going to be fighting against some of her closest friends and a potential ex-lover. He could imagine it feeling like it, if he were in her place. She smiled softly and twirled a piece of hair around her finger as she said, “However, it is nice to see the Professor again.”

He hummed in the back of his throat, shifting his weight back to his arms so he could stare up at the sky. “It is.” And it was, but it was also complicated, and Sylvain was decidedly NOT GOOD at complicated.

When he glanced down, green eyes were peering up at him through dark lashes as Dorothea overly sweetly said, “You don’t sound NEARLY as pleased as I thought you would. I saw that little reunion hug out there.”

He winced, and Dorothea’s eyes sharpened on the reaction. “I AM pleased. It’s nice to have my friend back.”

“Then where were you?” Her tone became sharper, a little more deadly, as she leaned closer. “Do you have any idea what she’s been through since she woke up?”

“I’ve been busy.” The ugly heated and hurt feeling was coming back and his smile had a bit more teeth to it, but Dorothea was unperturbed.

“Busy?” She scoffed and narrowed her eyes, “Where is Felix? You two were her best friends, everyone saw you two constantly at her side. Don’t you think she could use that right now?”

“Goddess, Dorothea! I’ve kinda had some shit to work through!” He ran a frustrated hand through his hair and Dorothea’s eyes widened before softening, if only a little bit.

“Is it Felix?” He looked up at the sky, not answering the question. She hummed softly and said, “I always wondered how that would work out.”

“How what would work out?” He still wasn’t looking at her, he just continued to stare as the clouds floated by.

“How your friendship would work out when you were basically in love with both of them.” 

It hit like a punch to the gut, stealing the breath from his lungs. He sat forward, elbows on his knees and still avoided her gaze. Once he regained his bearings, a borderline hysterical laugh bubbled from his throat as he said, “I have no idea what you mean.”

She hummed again, sounding contemplative, before saying, “Linny seemed to think you and Felix were going to get together after you ended your little… arrangement. He was slightly frustrated with your endless pining.” She chuckled softly and added, “So, I’m guessing you did… and now Byleth’s back and that complicates things.” 

He shuddered. Violently. The shake going through his whole body as he wondered if he might throw up, right here in front of Dorothea in her smoking hot dress. It’d be a fitting end to the day that had been full of repeated metaphorical kicks to the head. He felt a soft hand on his back, but he didn’t raise his head. 

“If it’s any consolation, I’m really sorry. I can’t imagine what it must be like, the two of you caring for each other, but also caring for her.” He gave a defeated chuckle as she rubbed his back softly, resting her head lightly against his shoulder. “Is that why Felix hasn’t come back yet?” Sylvain weakly shrugged, not wanting to talk about their fight and Felix's leaving him in the forest. She hummed in though again. “Does she know?”

“Know what?” His voice was a pained whisper that had him wincing again.

“How you guys feel about her?” 

That earned a sharp bark, and her head raised from its perch on his shoulder. “Felix doesn’t even know how he feels. I tried to get them to see each other during the Academy days but he kept running away. Now he’s doing the same damned thing he always does, shutting everybody out. And she didn’t believe me when I basically confessed before the invasion. She said I was using a line on her. It was humiliating, I can’t deal with that again.”

Dorothea was silent for a moment as he focused on his breathing. Eventually the tense silence was broken when Dorothea whispered, “It’s a bit harder to seem genuine when you flirt as much as we do, isn’t it?” Her tone was haunted and when he turned to glance at her, she was staring straight ahead with a far off look on her face. “But it’s hard to be genuine when you’re like us. It’s hard to be genuine when most people don’t see you for who you actually are, but rather for what you can give them.”

“You know what, Dorothea?” She turned her head to give him a soft smile. “Maybe we should just give up on other people and get married already. I’ve got everything you want, and you’ve got everything I want… Let’s run away together, what do you say?”

She giggled and shook her head. “There he is. I was getting nervous when you hadn’t flirted with me. I mean, seriously? What does a girl have to do to get a compliment around here?” She gave a flirtatious wink and he trailed his eyes pointedly down the open back of her dress.

“Well, if you’re fishing for compliments--” 

“Uh, guys?” They were so wrapped up in their conversation, they missed the door opening up behind them. “I’m ready for you to come in now.” Bernadetta looked between them somewhat nervously before squaring her shoulders and opening the door wider.

Dorothea sent him a quick smile as he stood and offered her a hand. “We’re coming, Bern.” As they walked toward the door, Dorothea whispered, “If you ever need to talk…”

“Thanks, Dorothea. I mean it.” She looked him over briefly before nodding and getting to work.   


After they were done helping Bernadetta with her room, the three of them sat and reminisced on their Academy days while eating some of the food they had packed. Eventually it became obvious that Bernadetta wanted some alone time, so he and Dorothea said their goodbyes and left. 

When he walked out onto the pathway, Dorothea stopped beside him and whispered, “I know things are hard for you right now, but Byleth could really use someone to lean on.” He turned to look at her and she sighed. “I don’t think she really trusts anyone else to help, but she’s had a rough go of things since she woke up.” 

Piercing green eyes met his as she murmured, “Your little Princeling attacked her when she found him. That’s part of the reason Bern was so freaked out. When she took off her collar it was…” Dorothea shivered and he tensed as she added, “You could see his handprint.”

“He…” The rest of the statement died in his throat when Dorothea’s eyes filled with tears.

“We’re really lucky to have her here. She should be dead.” There was something in the finality of her tone that sent a chill down his spine. “I just want her to be happy, goddess knows that woman deserves it.” The sadness that showed on her face was replaced by a wicked glint as she cooed, “If you don’t try your hand, I just might.”

He chuckled dryly and scratched the back of his head. “Go for it. She does deserve to be happy, and I’m not the one that can give her that.” Pity wormed its way into Dorothea’s gaze, but he really didn't want to deal with that right now. He had had enough vulnerability for one day thank you very much. He dipped down and kissed her on the cheek before quickly walking off and calling over his shoulder, “I’m going to go try to find her. I’ll talk to you later.”

He walked up the path toward Byleth’s room, figuring she might be there, but froze at the bottom of the stairs. It was obvious that her door had been beaten down, and his fists clenched as he walked in and took in the destruction that used to be Byleth’s living space. 

The bulletin board in her room had been torn down, her desk had been smashed, her flower vases she would so often give as gifts were now colorful pieces of glass littered across the floor. He audibly growled when his eyes landed on “death to the fake goddess” scrawled across the wall next to her broken bed. The same bed where he held her when she cried after her father died. 

“She wakes up after five years and THIS is the first shit she sees?” He punched the offending words, hard, and the pain that blossomed sent tears prickling at the corner of his eyes. “Shit shit shit shit.” He held his hand and groaned. “What the hell is WRONG with me today?”

“Funny, I was about to ask something similar.” He abruptly whipped around to see Byleth standing in the doorway, dressed in her standard outfit instead of the dress she had been wearing earlier. So many feelings flitted through him, grief, happiness, hurt, anger, desire… it was just really messy in Sylvain’s brain at the moment.

Byleth’s eyes traveled over him for a moment before coming back to rest on his face. “Why don’t I walk you to your room? We can fix up your hand there.” She turned without another word and skipped down the steps as he watched open mouthed. 

Eventually he shook himself from his daze and jogged out after her, still nursing his throbbing hand as he eventually matched her stride. He glanced down at her (was she always that small?) and noticed she was wearing one of her little collars again. Rage shot through him before he stamped it down. She seemed to notice, her eyes staring into his before flicking away quickly. 

Ashe and Annette called out a cheery “hello” from where they were cleaning Ashe’s room, and she waved with a small smile across her face. Mercedes and Dorothea were working together to clean out Mercedes room, Dorothea sent him a knowing look that he pointedly ignored. Dorothea knew too much, but he didn’t think her the type to spread information like that everywhere, especially not if it would affect Byleth.

When they reached the top of the stairs heading to the second floor dorms, Ingrid was sweeping some of the dust out of her room. When she spotted them, more specifically Byleth, her eyes lit up. “Professor! It’s still so exciting to see you.” She rushed over as Byleth smiled and nodded.

“You look beautiful, Ingrid. I like what you’ve done with your hair. I’m sure it makes flying a lot easier.” 

Ingrid brushed a hand against her much shorter locks and agreed. “We should go out sometime soon. And I’d love to spar with you, as well. I’ve been working hard, trying to perfect everything you taught me.”

Byleth’s smile became sad as she nodded, her eyes glazing over ever so slightly until she blinked it away. “I would love to spar with you, Ingrid. I look forward to seeing how much you’ve grown.”

She looked melancholy, the shine in her eyes dimming. It made his chest ache. “Can we go?” He exaggeratedly whined as he held up his still hurting hand, “My hand hurts.”

Ingrid cast him a sharp look before rolling her eyes. “What did you do this time?”

Byleth spoke before he could. “Ingrid, would you do me a favor?” When the blonde pegasus knight nodded enthusiastically, frustration at Sylvain momentarily forgotten, Byleth asked, “Would you ask Seteth to have some of the knights clear out my old quarters? They are no longer livable, and the broken furniture is a bit dangerous.”

Ingrid looked between them once before doing her formal arm crossed over chest bow. “Of course, Professor. I’ll go right—”

“There’s no rush.” Byleth smiled sweetly and shook her head. “Having your quarters ready for rest is important as well.” Byleth pulled Ingrid into a hug and softly said, “I’m so glad you are safe. We’ll spar soon so you can show me how strong you’ve become.”

When Ingrid pulled away, Sylvain could have sworn he saw tears in the corner of her eyes before she shook her head lightly and said, “Thank you, Professor. I look forward to it.”

While they continued on down the hall, Byleth was quiet. He turned to look down at her again, and her lips were set firm and she had a faraway look in her eye. “Everyone really missed you. It must be…” What’s the right word? “… overwhelming.” She nodded, but didn’t turn to look at him. Instead her eyes fell on Felix’s door and she paused in front of it.

“How did it go with Felix? I saw that he didn’t come back with you.” 

Sylvain sighed and said, “Well you know how Felix is…”

“Is he angry with me?” The look in her eye was so hurt and sad that he couldn’t take it.

“I don’t think that’s it.” Sylvain took her hand and led her toward his room further down the hall. “He was really torn up with you gone. I think he feels… guilty. I don’t know. I think he needs to talk to you and hopefully he’ll feel better. For now, he just needs time.”

They stopped in front of his door and he took a deep breath before finally pushing it open. An intense wave of nostalgia ran through him as he took a few hesitant steps into the room. So many experiences had happened to him during the Academy, some terrible and some great, but _goddess_ if he didn’t miss it. He took off his armor, his body aching from wearing it for so long, and took his time looking around the room.

When he finished and turned toward Byleth, she was watching him carefully. “Are you alright?” She took his injured hand, and began the work of healing it. As the magic flowed through him, he sighed in relief.

It took a moment to find the right words, but she waited patiently, still inspecting his hand. “The last time I was in this room was the night before the invasion. Felix came and told me you had invited us to stay in your room for the night.” The barest hint of color across her cheeks was charming and he interlaced their fingers now that his hand was healed. “When I left this room, I still had you, I still had Felix, and I still had…” He stopped himself and Byleth looked up at him curiously.

“Still had what?” She softly asked.

“Still had Emery.” Byleth’s lip quivered and he frowned.

“How did it happen?” She sat on the edge of the bed, looking up at him with those big sad eyes.

“There was a massive attack at the border of Fraldarius about a year ago. I flew down with Annette, Ashe, and Linhardt to help.” At her curious head tilt, he explained, “They were all staying with me in Gautier at that point.” Her little satisfied smile and the pride in her eyes as she put a hand to her chest was enough to let him know he would do literally anything to see it again.

“The Imperial forces brought demonic beasts and those dark mages we kept running into during the Academy days. They kept unleashing fire spells, raining them down on their troops and ours. I saw Felix running toward them alone, and I was so desperate to try and help him that I wasn’t paying attention.”

Byleth’s eyes filled with tears as she put a hand over her mouth. He knelt down in front of her, taking her other hand in his again. “Emery took the brunt of the fire attack. I was able to get off of her in time, but I hit my head and blacked out. When I woke up a few days later, Felix told me she fought to keep the enemies away from me until he could get me out of there. He’s the one who told she didn’t make it.”

Tears welled in his eyes at the memory of that day. Felix’s desperate anger covering up his fear, his rambled words trying to express how much Sylvain meant to him, the kiss… and now Byleth was here. Now that was all gone.

The words fell from his mouth before he could stop them. “You were gone. You were… dead.” His tone held so much of his hurt, and was almost accusatory as he looked up at her.

Byleth nodded slowly, her eyes filling with tears as she whispered, “I was.” Her expression was painfully open and honest as she softly said, “I’m sorry I left you. I didn’t want to.”

The simple words broke the dam holding all of his messy emotions in. He let out a broken sob and cried, “I left YOU! I left you here to die!” A tear trailed down Byleth’s cheek as she slowly shook her head, and Sylvain turned his face away. He really did hate to see a pretty girl cry… especially her.

He didn’t get to turn away for long. Byleth reached over, cupping his opposite cheek so she could turn his face back toward her. His eyes landed on sorrowful green ones, and he could have sworn he felt his heart flip in his chest. “I broke my promise not to do anything reckless. It wasn’t your fault.”

He began to shake his head, the pathetic tears still streaming down his cheeks as he sobbed, but Byleth raised her other hand and cupped both sides of his face. She lightly brushed her thumbs over his wet cheeks and firmly said, “It’s not your fault. It’s mine, and I’m sorry.”

“Please…” his voice broke and came out as more of a whine as he tried and failed to pull himself together. “Please… don’t disappear again. Please don’t leave. I can’t…” His head fell into her lap as he wrapped his arms around her as much as he could from his position kneeling on the floor. Byleth ran a hand through his hair, scratching lightly at his scalp as he cried.

He didn’t know how to express all of the pain and the fear he was feeling. He didn’t know what to say that could possibly encompass all of the grief he had been dealing with the last five years. There were no words for it. It seemed all he could do was cry. Cry about losing her, cry about losing Felix, cry about feeling confused and lost. She held him through all of it, whispering she was sorry, that she was alive and there with him, and that it wasn’t his fault. She whispered the phrases over and over as she ran her fingers over his scalp.

 _I love her._ The realization was slow, but all encompassing. It wasn’t like a lightning strike, violent and bright, it was like the warmest healing magic slowly coursing through his veins as he cried into her lap. He had missed the open care and affection Byleth freely gave. He had missed the feeling of safety he had when she was nearby. He had missed the way she saw all the broken pieces scattered within him, and still cared just the same. She saw past every façade he could put up, weathered through any destructive storm he threw at her, and still wanted to be here for him. 

Of course, that just made him cry even harder because what the fuck was he supposed to do now?

She pulled him up onto the bed, and he curled around her holding her as tightly as he could. Part of his brain registered the fact that this was all super embarrassing, but Byleth didn’t seem to mind. She just held him, humming a tune with a sad look in her eye. 

Eventually the emotional stress combined with the physical exertion from the past several days of travel and fighting became to much for him. He fell asleep to the sound of Byleth’s humming, and the feel of her fingers combing through his hair.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next chapter is going to be Felix's experience of the day. His was harder to write than Sylvain's, to be honest. I hope you guys will like it. I'll post it in a couple days.
> 
> Also... how would you guys feel about the Ashen Wolves joining the party? I have a few ideas, but I wondered what you all would think. 
> 
> As always, I really appreciate comments and kudos. They are basically what fuels me to keep this going. Hahaha *Sobs because I'm writing too much angst and I can't handle it*


	4. Reunion at Dawn (Part 4)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> GUYS! GUYS! GUYS! https://yzderia.tumblr.com/post/627373583553986560/commission-for-sunshineonacloudydayfe3h-sketch  
> Check out this link for artwork based off of the fic! Seriously sooooo good! Give @yzderia love on Tumblr
> 
> Now enjoy the Felix angst.
> 
> Also... we're four chapters in and we haven't even finished the first day of the reunion yet. HOLY COW. Hahaha

~Felix~

He only walked for what seemed like a few moments before collapsing against a tree. Emotional and physical fatigue made it feel impossible to go any further. His head was spinning, his breathing was erratic, and tears had started to worm down his cheeks. He could still hear Sylvain’s sobs somewhere in the distance as he moved to sit with his back against the bark, his old silver sword laid out across his knees. It was like he was keeping vigil over the pain he had caused, like he was unable to go so far as to leave Sylvain open and weak where anyone could find him.

Guilt flooded his mind as the sound of Sylvain’s crying continued to grate against his ears. Guilt that his words and feelings are so easily turned into weapons. Guilt that his words would never be used to soothe and succor, only harm and hurt. His words had been sharp and barbed since Glenn’s death, and he had just used them to hurt one of the people he truly cares about.

But Sylvain loves Byleth, and Byleth is here. Byleth is alive.

Seeing the joy on Sylvain’s face when he held her like that felt like a physical pain in his chest because… when was the last time he had seen him that happy? He banished the image of honey eyes, a sunshine smile, and a shock of red hair on the pillow beside him. If Sylvain could have someone who made him happy, who whispered comforting words and held him when he was sad and scared, shouldn’t he? _If Sylvain could have Byleth, beautiful, kind, powerful, Byleth.._. A choked sob escaped him before he clasped a hand over his mouth to muffle the sound.

Felix had strength and skill, the things that he had worked for and pursued as long as he could remember. He could fight to try and protect him, but Felix didn’t have tenderness, and he certainly didn’t have affections. _“Bullshit.”_ A voice spat in the back of his mind. _“Just go and apologize. Go and be there for him.”_

He didn’t know how.

It seemed like he was destined to always let the people he cared for down. His old man because he wasn’t a virtuous knight, self-sacrificing and dutiful like Glenn. His mother, for reminding her so much of the son she no longer had. Sylvain, by always hurting him, by always being prickly and obstinate and MEAN. Dimitri, the boar, the monster that’s been isolated here for who knows how long. Could he have done something to help his childhood friend? Should he have done something when he first saw the beast, when he first saw that it was no longer Dima in those sky-blue eyes. Something other than bark and prod at him, building defense after defense around himself in an effort to keep everyone, including him, out.

And Byleth.

That one might hurt worse than the others, because he had let her down when she needed him the most. When she was sleeping, cold and alone, he had laid in his bed up in Fraldarius and been angry. ANGRY at her for leaving him, ANGRY at her for breaking her promise, ANGRY that she wasn’t by his side. He had been so busy being angry that he had pushed the thought of her aside. He had written her off as dead, even after all of those crazy dreams.

When had he become such an obstinate fool? 

His thoughts were derailed by a hurt and angry bellow of, “FUCK!” that rang through the trees around him. The frantic sound of birds taking off into the sky filled the harsh silence as Felix closed his eyes and leaned his head back against the tree.

Sylvain would never forgive him… not this time.

He waited until the sun was starting to set to make his way back to the monastery. He was immediately stopped at the gates by some of the Knights of Seiros. _What the hell? I thought this place was abandoned?_ It didn’t take long after he announced his name for him to be let in. He took his horse to the stables, where a squire immediately took over caring for the beast. He nodded awkwardly to the young boy and grabbed his saddlebags, immediately heading to the one place he wanted to be right now.

He took the long way around, avoiding the dorms and hoping to avoid any of the other Lions or anyone else he knew. He mostly succeeded, though he did get a sharp appraising look from Shamir before she entered the Knights Hall with Catherine chattering along beside her. She nodded minutely to him, and Catherine didn’t even notice before Shamir turned her attention back to the blonde swordswoman. The thought of sparring with Thunder Catherine almost made him stray from his goal, but he persisted.

He paused at the courtyard near the graveyard where Byleth’s parents were buried, standing at the top of the stairs staring down at the corner headstone. Memories of another person he had let down, now laying beneath the dirt, causing a lump of emotion to form in his throat. Jeralt had asked him to watch out for Byleth, and he had failed.

His depressing thoughts were cut off when a call of “PROOFFESSSOR!” sounded out behind him. He scurried down the stairs, ducking down beneath the stone wall to avoid being spotted by none other than Caspar. He really didn’t have the energy, nor the patience, to deal with the brawler right now, though it was good to see that he was alive and well.He was glad he had ducked out of the way, because shortly after he peeked over the ledge and spotted Byleth in a long white dress. She turned and her voice called out, “Caspar?” He watched as the brawler tackled her into an enthusiastic hug, twirling her around as he hollered. Her laugh filled the air and he felt that semi-forgotten feeling of his breath leaving his lungs and warmth spreading through his chest. 

They only spoke for a moment before Caspar grabbed her hand and dragged her away. Once Felix was sure they were gone, he crept back up the stairs and darted through the doors and out into the courtyard in front of the classrooms. He froze when his eyes landed on the knights who were working on loading the mangled bodies of Imperial soldiers into a cart, probably to be carted away and given proper burial somewhere outside of the monastery.

A shudder ran through him at the thought of the boar here, alone, taking out soldiers and bandits for who knows how long, with that same strength he’d shown this morning. Though hadn’t he been doing the same thing up in Fraldarius? Cutting down all of the troops who were only following a tyrant’s orders? He clenched his fists and shut his eyes, taking a few deep breaths before continuing his walk the short distance to his desired destination.

He pulled the heavy doors open and stepped into the training grounds. The relieved sigh that left him as his shoulders sank back to their relaxed position was almost pathetic, but he tried not to think about it too much. He had missed this place, or rather, he had missed the simplicity of his life when he was here.

He was happy to realize the room wasn’t in too bad of shape. Trash littered the dusty stone floor, but the training weapons were still there, even if they were thrown around the room. He could imagine that training weapons weren’t of much use to bandits or pillagers who had hazarded the trip up here. He set his saddlebags down near the door, stripped off his armor and coat, pushed up his sleeves, and got to work.

He lit the old torches that hung on the pillars of the grounds, and they cast a soft light across the area as he started picking up trash, storing it in an old bin. He broke into the old supply closet, figuring the others would hardly care, and pulled out the broom. The sound of the bristles against the stone was calming as he methodically cleaned the floor.

Once the floor was clean, he got to work straightening the racks where he had stacked up the training weapons. He walked back into the supply closet and grabbed the necessary rags and oil to clean and maintain the training weapons. Some looked like they had been used over the last few years, but he didn’t contemplate it too much as he sorted out the ones that were in need of repair and trashed the ones that were beyond repair. Then he worked on the dummies, re-stuffing and repairing any that had damage. It made him feel a little guilty for all of the damage he had done as a student, that ultimately had to be cleaned up by the staff of the monastery.

He must have been at it for hours, because he eventually had to replace the torches before getting back to work. When he was finally done, he was sweaty and exhausted, but too wound up to even attempt sleeping. His thoughts still circled around his interaction (Fight? Could that even be considered a fight?) with Sylvain and the fact that Byleth was alive. He couldn’t seem to clear it, no matter how hard he worked. 

It was late, but he grabbed one of the training swords and moved to take his position at one of the dummies. He took another set of deep breaths, counting them out, before running through the training exercises that Byleth had taught him all those years ago. It felt natural, and the movement helped his brain fall into the pleasant training buzz where he didn’t need to think, only act. He didn’t know how long he had lasted, the only time he stopped was to take off his turtleneck, working instead in a black undershirt and his teal pants with his long boots.

He tensed when he heard the door open, and clenched his eyes shut when he heard familiar heeled steps on the stone floor. She must have noticed his displeasure, which wasn’t surprising, she always did. She softly called, “I was coming in to do some training. Do you want me to leave?”

He turned slowly to face her, shoulders drawn tight and his hand clenched around the training sword so hard his hand hurt. “Spar with me.” It practically flew from his mouth, not completely considered. It was like a reflex after a full year of saying the same thing to his teacher, friend, and mentor over and over. 

Her eyes crinkled in the corners as they brightened with amusement, making his stomach feel like it was twisting into complicated knots. She looked exhausted, but so was he. It had been almost five years of endless training and honing of his skills on the battlefield. He was excited at the thought of potentially beating her. He really wanted to see how he fared now that he had grown older and wiser.

Her bright green eyes lingered on his bare arms and torso, moving up to his face and hair. He felt like he was being analyzed, but not in an unpleasant way. If anything he felt a dash of pride. She hadn't seen him in five years. He hadn't grown, much to his dismay, but he had become stronger. He had more scars, unsightly against his pale skin, but he doubted she would care about something like that. She probably had more scars than he did. He couldn't help wondering what she thought of him now.

He fought off the flush of his cheeks as she said, “It’s so strange, seeing all of you older like this. You’ve grown well, Fraldarius.” 

“Well, you look exactly the same.” It was true, she did. She was back in the familiar outfit from the Academy days, and her face and hair looked exactly the same. Whatever sleeping she had been doing, it made it seem like she hadn’t aged a day. You’d think her hair would have grown at least, but it was like she was frozen in time. He felt a weird sort of thrill at the fact that he could almost be considered older than her now. He was no longer a young teenager, traipsing around after the more mature swordswoman, begging for her to teach him how to be stronger.

“Almost.” There was something weird in her tone, something he couldn’t dissect as she crossed her arms across her torso, almost clutching herself before she relaxed again with a loud exhale. It made his hands twitch with the desire to pull her into his arms and hold her until she felt better, but he held it back.

When his mind struggled to find any other words he repeated, “Spar with me.”

“You look tired. Are you sure we should do this now?” He would consider it condescending from anyone else, but her eyes held genuine concern as she looked over him again.

“You do, too, but you were going to train anyway.” His tone was sharp and accusing, and he fought of the urge to wince. If it bothered her, she didn’t show it. Instead she walked over to the rack and grabbed a training sword. 

Once she found one that was satisfactory for her she called, “I’m assuming you cleaned everything?” He nodded mutely, dropping into a defensive stance. She hummed softly and said, “Did you miss this place as much as you thought you would?”

He stood straight again and furrowed his brows in confusion. “What are you talking about?”

Hurt flashed through her eyes before she looked down at her training sword, giving a few practice strokes as a warm up. “The night before Edelgard’s attack I came to check on you. The only thing you were worried about was how much you would miss the training grounds.” She chuckled softly, almost sadly, while shaking her head at the memory.

He had forgotten. Almost five years of fighting and experiences had pushed the memory to the back of his mind. He did remember that missing the training grounds wasn’t the only thing on his mind, but it was the safest thing to tell her at the time and he told her as much. “That wasn’t the only thing I was worried about, that’s just the only thing I said.” 

Her eyes glistened for a moment before she took a deep breath and whispered, “I know.” She dropped into a defensive stance and his nerves caught fire as she called, “Let’s begin.”

He wasn’t at peak performance and if memory served, neither was she, but the level of exhilaration he felt when their training swords first met was almost too much for him. His heart pounded in his ears as they matched each other blow for blow. Her eyes were sharp and calculating, he could practically see the wheels in her mind turning as she studied each of his movements. He had to relearn hers as well, having been without his training partner for so long.

The thought sent a sad pang through his chest and she must have seen the distraction because she took the opening, landing a light smack against his side. The smirk that curled her lips made him feel like his blood was on fire, coursing through his limbs as excitement and desire pushed him further and faster.

He had never lasted this long against her before, and after several minutes of dancing and weaving they were both starting to tire. He could see the weariness in her eyes, the barely perceptible slowing of her movements. He called on the last of his energy, knowing he would pay for it tomorrow, and pushed forward. He felt the corner of his lip curl as he pushed her back toward a pillar and with a lunge, he struck in a tiny opening she left and hit the shoulder of her sword arm. She winced, but held firm, trying to sweep him back to give herself space. 

He didn’t let her, keeping up his assault until he finally managed to knock the sword from her hand with a well-placed hit on the wrist. He pushed her up against the pillar, and with his training sword at her collared throat he growled, “Yield.” 

Her eyes flashed with an emotion he couldn’t place as she whispered, “I yield.”

An incredulous laugh left his lips as he stared and said, “I finally notched a win against you.” Both of their chests were heaving from the exertion and his heart was pounding in his ears from the combination of his proximate to her and the win he had so long desired. It felt too good to be true, and he idly wondered if maybe this was a dream and he would wake up disappointed.

He had been training so long and so hard for this day, a day he thought would never happen after the Battle of Garreg Mach, after she fell. For so long, he had been comparing himself to her, and comparing himself to Glenn. And now, he had FINALLY tasted victory. He would never have a chance to beat Glenn, but right here and now he had made Byleth yield. Why wasn’t it making him happy? Why did he have this tightness in his chest as he stared down at his old training partner?

The air was thick between them as she stared at him. Finally she softly said, “I’m proud of you. You’ve become very skilled.” He watched the hard swallow she took and when he flicked his eyes back up to her face, she had a soft smile, but her eyes were overwhelmingly sad.

He scoffed, dropped his sword back to his side, and growled, “And that upsets you?”

“I’m sorry…” her voice was weak as she shook her head, “you earned your win. I don’t mean to be…” She groaned in frustration and slid down the pillar with her hands over her face.

The state she was in was making him want to hold her again, and he didn’t like that feeling. He shuffled on his feet and retorted, “Please, I barely scraped by. And I know that you aren’t at peak condition.”

She shook her head earnestly, but her eyes were still sad when they finally met his again. “Maybe so, but you aren’t either. Even still, every movement was calculated and precise. I struggled to find openings even when you were distracted. You are a great swordsman, Felix. I knew you would be.”

He didn’t know why the comment made him bristle, maybe it was the edge of something like disappointment in her voice. He had worked and trained day in and day out for the last five years. He had waited so long for the day he would make her yield. Why wasn’t she happy? Why wasn’t he happy?

There was a steadily increasing pressure in his chest that was really starting to piss him off. He rolled his eyes and barked, “I didn’t have a choice. I’ve been fighting a war for goddess’ sake!” 

“And all I was doing was sleeping in some river while you had to fight for your life.” Her lip curled and the softness became hard as anger twisted her features. “I was sleeping in a river while all of you had to grow up. I was sleeping in a river while Dimitri became whatever the hell he is now. I was sleeping in a river—”

“STOP FUCKING SAYING THAT!” His yell rang over the stone floor as he threw his training sword to the side in frustration. Her eyes were watching him carefully, seeming to look right through him and he hated it. He turned away, unable to look at her anymore. “I don’t need to be reminded of where you were.”

“I’m sorry.” Her voice was soft, too soft for him.

He growled, “I don’t want your apologies.” 

“Well you have them anyway. I’m sorry for breaking my promise, Felix. I'm sorry for leaving.” 

“Why?!” He turned back toward her, voice biting and his eyes narrowed. “Why did you do it?! Why did you break your promise?! Why didn’t you stay with us?!” The edge of desperation was cringe-worthy as he schooled his expression into its usual scowl.

She was as unmoved by his yelling as usual. She glanced up through the open ceiling, the light from the lanterns casting a glow on her seafoam green hair. “Did you see the dragon that day?”

“It’s kind of hard to miss a fucking dragon, Byleth.” Her name spilling from his tongue felt so foreign and so familiar at the same time. Like a favorite meal that he hadn’t had in a long time, the flavors dear to him but somewhat forgotten. Experiencing this again, experiencing her, was something like that.

“Well, the dragon was Rhea.” She stood slowly, coming to stand right in front of him as he stared open-mouthed.

“It was… Rhea? You’re telling me the Archbishop can turn into a DRAGON?” 

“She was being overwhelmed by demonic beasts,” green eyes stayed on his as she moved into his space “I had to try and help. Rhea is the only one who knows what she did to me, she’s the only one who knows what I am.” 

He wrinkled his nose at her wording. “What you are? Don’t be stupid.” He rolled his eyes and tried to turn away, but Byleth grabbed his hand, the contact keeping him where he was.

“What I am, Felix.” It was final and straightforward, her face completely serious. “It’s not an excuse, but I thought you deserved an explanation. I should not have gone after her. I should have played it safe and come back to you, but I didn’t. But I can’t…” her voice cracked before she shook her head and tried again “… I don’t think I can do this without you. I don’t think I can do this if you are angry with me.”

“I’m not angry with you, I’m angry with me!” He tried to turn away again, but her grip on his hand was too tight. She kept him in place, forcing him to stay where he was.

“Why?” He tried to free his arm again with a growl, but she didn’t let up. She pleaded, “Talk to me, Felix. Please?” 

The door to the training grounds opened and they jumped apart, sigils already forming in her hand until she spotted the head of red hair and let the spell die. Relief washed over Sylvain’s features as his eyes landed on Byleth, but they quickly hardened again once he saw Felix. Felix wasn’t sure which part hurt more. 

“By…” Sylvain sighed and ran a hand down his face. “You’re still here.”

“Sorry. You fell asleep and I didn’t want to wake you.” Byleth walked over, and Sylvain put a hand on her arm, like he needed tactile assurance that she was still there. Felix stomach twisted and he turned away, picked up his training sword, and walked back toward the training dummy he had been working on before Byleth walked in. 

_What were they doing before Sylvain fell asleep?_ He shook the thought and ugly feeling away as he started going through his movements again. It didn’t matter to him what they were doing. _They can do whatever the hell they want. I don’t care._

Byleth’s tone was playful behind him as she said, “Felix beat me.” 

A dry chuckle echoed from Sylvain before he murmured, “I bet he loved that.”

“You both look so much older and stronger. I still don’t know how to handle it.” Her voice was softer but he couldn’t see her face, too busy working on the dummy in front of him and trying to ignore the feeling of eyes on him.

Sylvain's tone was teasing, but held an edge of sincerity as he said, “You look exactly the same. It’s almost like you didn’t age a day.” 

Byleth hummed contemplatively and remarked, “I don’t think I did. I think I died and Sothis brought me back.” That stopped his swings as he whirled around to face her.

“What the hell did you just say?” His tone was biting and venomous, but she continued to stare him down from Sylvain’s side.

“I think I died and—”

“Don’t say it again!” He lifted a hand to his forehead and groaned in frustration. 

“What else would explain this?” She lifted the bottom of her shirt until he could see the bottom of her breast band. Sylvain made a choked noise in the back of his throat, but Felix remained silent as his eyes fell on a massive silver scar between her ribs. It almost seemed to glow in the light from the torches. She turned and it was the same on the back. She had been stabbed all the way through.

“What…” Sylvain reached out like he was going to brush a hand over it, but stopped himself.

She turned to Sylvain, still holding her shirt up. Felix couldn't seem to tear his eyes away from the scar that taunted him, reminding him of his failure to protect her. “The dragon the day of the battle was Rhea.” Another choked noise sounded from Sylvain, who stared with wide eyes. Felix walked forward to stand closer to them without really meaning to. “She was being overwhelmed by demonic beasts. I panicked and rushed in to try and help. I got her free, but the mage from the day my father died appeared.” Her lip trembled ever so slightly at the mention of her father. “He hit me with some sort of energy and I flew back towards the cliff side.” 

Her eyes looked strangely far away as she softly continued her story. “The ground crumbled beneath my feet and I started to fall. I tried to turn back time, but it didn’t work. It felt like my blood was on fire and all of my muscles were seizing. As a last resort, I tried to use my sword to stop my fall, but I was too weak.” She snapped back to the present and waved her hand in front of the scar. “It didn’t work. It must have fallen back towards me and pierced straight through.”

Sylvain looked like he might puke or faint, maybe both. Byleth looked at him in concern as he turned around and rubbed a hand down his face. She softly added, “I should be dead. I don’t know what the hell I am… but I NEED to find Rhea so I can make her tell me.” 

“We don’t even know if she’s alive.” Felix’s voice was gentler than it was before and her eyes flew to his. 

“Edelgard would have made a declaration if she was dead. She must have Rhea locked up in Enbarr or something. I plan to end this war and find out.”

“And how do you plan to do that?” His voice was incredulous as he walked closer still and Sylvain turned to look at her in interest. “We’ve been fighting just to hold onto our territories for five years. Cornelia staged a coup and tried to have the boar killed. Even with him alive, the entire western half of the Kingdom has sided with Cornelia and the Empire. You don’t have the manpower or the resources.”

“I have the Knights of Seiros under my command. Let’s use them to help us put Dimitri on the throne. We take back Faerghus, then march on Enbarr.” Felix scoffed and Sylvain growled, an actual furious-sounding growl that had Felix staring at him incredulously. 

“Why don’t you take off that collar and tell me we should put His Highness on the throne.” Sylvain’s eyes were dark and angry as he stared down at Byleth, a look that didn’t often happen in those honey eyes. Byleth wouldn’t return his gaze.

Felix snapped, “What are you talking about?” 

Byleth hesitantly explained, “Dimitri… attacked me when I found him this morning. He thought I was a ghost at first, but when I healed him, he realized I was real. When he realized I wasn’t a ghost, he thought that I was like Solon and Kronya. He… choked me. Just until he could verify it was actually me.”

Felix was blindsided when instead of rage, a feeling of dread washed over him. He pushed the feeling away, not wanting to analyze why it was happening right now. Sylvain just shook his head, incensed further by the explanation. His eyes kept dropping to her throat, like he could see the bruises that probably still showed beneath the collar. “He’s openly hostile towards you, By. I was in that meeting. If he’s acting that way towards you…” Sylvain sighed and ran a hand through his thoroughly messed up hair.

“Dedue died to save him and he lost his kingdom. He’s been all alone for years, and he thinks he’s being haunted by the ghosts of his dead loved ones.” She looked at each of them as she pleaded her case. “If I can just speak to him, if I can explain where I’ve been, maybe I can help him.” 

“You really haven’t changed at all.” His voice rang with his disappointment, and Byleth grimaced before looking away. “He’s gotten better at killing, and in exchange he’s given up the last of his humanity. Holding out hope for him is futile.” He couldn’t fight back the part of him that thought if anyone could help the boar, it was her. Not that he would EVER say anything like that to anyone. Maybe that was why he still felt the heaviness in the pit of his stomach. The boar, who had openly fawned all over Byleth in the Academy, was no longer soothed by her as he once was. If he couldn't be soothed by her now, maybe he was well and truly gone.

“Don’t say that…” Tears gathered in the corner of her eyes as she shook her head. “He’s not lost. I can’t let him be lost. It’s my fault he’s like this, if I had been there—”

He shook his head and cut her off. “You don’t know that it would have turned out any differently.” 

She stepped forward, her eyes sharp and challenging. “And you don’t know that it wouldn’t have.” He matched her stare for several moments, until he could no longer take the proximity and the eye contact. He scoffed and turned to the side while crossing his arms firmly over his chest. 

Sylvain stepped up beside them and took on a placating tone as he said, “By… we’re just worried. We’ve been fighting this war for a long time. I want to believe that things will be different with you and His Highness here. But this war has been hard, we’ve all lost a lot.”

The image of Sylvain falling from the sky came to mind unbidden, as well as Emery’s final roars before the axe connected with her neck. He grimaced and tried to turn away, but Byleth reached out and took his hand again. When he looked back, she had one of Sylvain’s too. 

He pulled away and growled, “Stop touching me!” She flinched back like he’d hit her, taking a step backwards out of his space. It left him feeling cold and empty, but he pushed the feeling away. “I’ll stay and fight, but I’m not fighting for the boar.” Byleth’s eyes softened and he gritted his teeth, stomping over to his bags. They both tried to get him to stay, but he had had enough.

Things weren’t going to be like they were before she fell. They couldn’t be.


	5. Next To Me

~Byleth~

She watched Felix leave and couldn’t help feeling a cruel mixture of disappointment and apprehension. He had said he wasn’t angry with her, but if he wasn’t angry with her, why would he be acting this way? The brash tone and bare minimum eye contact were things that she was used to by now, but the hostility toward her touch, and the bitterness toward her feelings left her chest feeling unbearably heavy.

“I’m sorry.” She turned to look at Sylvain and raised an eyebrow in question. He noticed and looked away quickly, awkwardly rubbing at the back of his neck. “I shouldn’t have come in here when I saw the two of you together. Felix really doesn’t want to be around me right now. I just woke up in my room and you weren’t there so I guess…” He sighed and ran his hand down his face before dropping it to his side with an audible slap against his thigh. “I guess I panicked. It’s still so new and strange to have you back. It kind of feels like if I look away, you’ll disappear again.” 

He was tense, even after the relief that had shown after he laid eyes on her again. She stepped closer to him, drawing him into a hug. Some of the tension left his body as his arms hesitantly circled her shoulders. “I’m sorry it feels like that.” She rested her head on his chest until he sighed and relaxed against her. She noticed his heart was beating incredibly fast.

“What’s going on with you and Felix?” She tilted her head back to look up at him, but he wouldn’t meet her gaze, instead staring at the door where Felix had made his exit.

“It’s complicated. I’d rather not talk about it.” When she didn’t say anything he added, “Things are just… different now.”

“Did something happen? Did you guys fight or something?” The tension in the room when Sylvain had walked in was palpable. She definitely noticed that they would hardly look at one another, she wasn’t blind. What had happened while she was sleeping? What could possibly make them act that way?

“As I said, I’d rather not talk about it. Sorry, By.” Sylvain dropped his arms and finally met her gaze.

“Okay… I guess.” She couldn’t force him to talk about it, and goddess knows Felix wasn’t going to tell her anything. She sighed, letting out some of the weariness she felt with a roll of her shoulders, and stepped back. “You should head back to your room. I’ll see you in the morning.”

“What are you going to do?” His eyes were wary as he stared at her. She wondered if he was really that worried about her disappearing again.

“I’m going to check on Dimitri. He wasn’t in his room when I looked, so I thought he might be in here. This is where he spent most of his nights before Edelgard’s invasion.” She pursed her lips as memories of Dimitri’s erratic behavior surfaced. It was so hard to think that he couldn’t seem to snap out of it now, like he always had then. She wished she could have her golden lion cub back, but supposed that helping him as he was now was the best she could do. “I got distracted trying to talk to Felix but…” She waved her hand toward the doors. “You saw how that went.”

“I’ll go with you.” Sylvain held out his arm for her to take, but she shook her head.

“That’s not necessary. You look exhausted, so you should try to get some rest.” She tried to smile, but his grim expression was making that more difficult than it should be.

“No, you shouldn’t be alone with him. Especially not after that.” He motioned to her neck, and her chest ached to see the fury and hurt in his caramel eyes.

“Sylvain, please. He knows it’s me, now. He won’t attack me.” She tried to keep her tone earnest, though she wasn’t exactly sure herself.

“You don’t know that.” Sylvain shook his head, and his hair tousled at the motion. The light from the torches made it the look like the prettiest deep red color she’d ever seen. He looked so much older, and it was really… weird. He was handsome before, but now? Now it made the pressure build in her stomach anytime she stared for too long, especially when he had that earnest look in his eyes like he currently did. “I’ll stay back if you want, I’ll even stay out of sight if you really want me to, but I’m going with you.”

It was painfully obvious that nothing she could say was going to sway him. He held out his arm again, this time with his eyes pleading, and she sighed as she took it. “Alright. But I don’t want him to feel like he’s being pressured or anything. I just want to see if he’ll let me talk to him this time.”

The cold of the Ethereal Moon was chilling as they walked out into the night air. The moon was bright enough that they didn’t need a torch to find their way to the Cathedral. The warmth of Sylvain’s body beside her was enticing, and part of her brain wanted to curl up with him and avoid speaking to Dimitri at all. 

When they reached the doors of the Cathedral, Sylvain pulled one open and they slipped inside. The moonlight spilled through the hole in the ceiling, shining on Dimitri’s silhouette as he paced before the pile of rubble in the center. Byleth heard Sylvain’s sharp intake of breath, and she wondered whether it was due to the manic state of his childhood friend or the destruction of the once hallowed Cathedral.

Byleth motioned for Sylvain to stay back. He looked ready to object, but eventually complied with her wishes. Dimitri’s murmurs filled the air as she approached slowly. “You’re wrong.” His hands held the sides of his head as he paced. “It’s not like that, Glenn! I swear it! Any love I once had for my stepsister… has been tossed aside. Only hatred remains. If I could tear that woman to shreds this very moment, I would. I don’t care if she’s the emperor. It’s no different than anyone else. So, I beg you… all of you… Do not worry about my resolve.”

She slowly circled until she was standing in front of him, but his eye was glancing off to his right. “Please, Father… And you too, Stepmother… Do not look gaze at me with that look in your eyes… I will bring you her head soon. And when I do, you may finally rest in peace. I know it… Yes, I know it….”

His eye landed on her and he froze. “Professor…” it was a haunted whisper and she could see the indecision on his face. It was like he couldn’t decide whether he wanted to come closer or move away. A hand slowly reached toward her, before quickly dropping back to his side. “I’ll do anything if it gives you peace. I couldn’t protect you. I couldn’t keep you safe… but I won’t fail you this time. I’ll bring you her head, and then you can rest. I swear it.”

“Dima…” She stepped toward him, hand outstretched, and he stepped away shaking his head.

He pleaded, “Do not be cruel, Professor.” His face was full of desperation as he looked at her hand like it was some sort of weapon that was going to harm him.

“Dima, I’m right here, I’m alive! Do you remember?” Confusion crossed Dimitri’s features as she stepped closer. Once she finally got close enough, she summoned faith magic to her hands and rested them on both sides of Dima’s head. It took a lot more magic than she intended, and she realized he must have been injured in the fight this morning and didn’t have anyone heal him afterwards. Relief crossed his features and he sighed heavily. “It’s going to be okay, Dima. I’m right here with you.”

The relief only lasted for a moment before his eye opened and zeroed in on her face. Fury twisted his features a split second before his hands reached up to grab her wrists in a bruising grip and pull them away from his head. “You…” He growled as he tightened his grip. “What do you want?” 

Her mind was reeling from the sudden change in temperament. “Dima, please.” Her voice became pleading as she tried to pull her wrists from his grasp. “I’m worried about you. I just want to help you.”

“Help me?” His laugh sent a chill down her spine. “If you wanted to help me, you would have been here. You said you would stay by my side, but you didn’t. Did you, Professor?” His face was twisted into an ugly sneer as he spoke her title.

She heard Sylvain’s hurried footsteps as he called, “Snap out of it, Your Highness.” She tried to shake her head “no” and convey that Sylvain should back away, but Dimitri had already turned his attention to the red head.

He laughed cruelly and taunted, “Have you come to pester the Professor again, Sylvain? Have you come to beg for her affection?”

“Dimitri, let her go.” Sylvain’s eyes became narrowed and dangerous as he summoned a fire spell sigil to his hand.

She bit the inside of her cheek to keep from crying out as the grip on her wrists tightened. “You want her? Take her.” He quickly shifted his grip to her upper arms, half pushing and half throwing her. His massive strength was enough to hurl her toward Sylvain, who fell backward with the momentum as he caught her. His hand came up to hold the back of her head as it laid on his chest. Dimitri’s deep voice growled threateningly, “Leave, and do not disturb me again.”

She rolled off of Sylvain, who tried to catch her elbow, but she shook his hand off. “Dimitri, your friends are worried about you. We are here to help you! You can’t treat the people you care about this way.”

Dimitri stomped toward her, but Sylvain moved between them. The manic blonde snorted derisively at the shorter redhead before peering down at her and spitting out, “The only use any of you have, is as bodies to throw at that woman until I can finally take her head from her shoulders. The sooner you understand that, the better.”

“You don’t mean that, Dimitri. These are your friends!” She pleaded with the prince as Sylvain pushed her back toward the door. When she tried to go around him, Sylvain grabbed her elbows, forcing her back. She could have pulled away, his grip was nothing compared to Dimitri’s, but she saw the fear in his eyes when she glanced back at his face and resigned to allowing him to pull her toward the door.

“I have no use for friends. The dead demand their vengeance, and as the survivor, I must give them what they want.” It seemed that would be the last word. Dimitri turned his back on them, instead facing the rubble of the Cathedral as Sylvain continued to drag her away.

When the door to the Cathedral closed behind them, Sylvain immediately crushed her to his chest. “Goddess, By… he’s…”

“I know.” Tears blurred her vision as she held onto the front of Sylvain’s shirt.

“I’m so sorry.” He whispered it into her hair as he stroked her back lightly. “Are you okay?”

“It’s my fault. I told him I would stay with him, that I would help get him through it.” She shut her eyes and shook her head. “I abandoned him, I abandoned all of you.”

“No, By. It’s not your fault. You didn’t have a choice.”

“I didn’t. I didn’t have a choice. I don’t have a choice. I didn’t want any of this. I don’t want any of it.” Panic was starting to set in. Today had held too much for her. Waking up after five years, finding her students and friends five years older, finding Dimitri in this state, being attacked by one of the people most precious to her, being made acting archbishop, the hope in everyone’s eyes every time they looked at her. It was all too much. She didn’t want any of this. 

“I know, By. I know.” Sylvain held her close and she melted into him, the warmth and comfort helping to slowly ease the panic. 

Once she felt like she had her emotions back under control, she dropped her arms and stepped back. “It’s late, Syl. You should get some rest.” 

“WE should get some rest.” When she raised an eyebrow at him, he raised a hand to scratch the back of his head. “Well, I mean… both of us should get rest. Not… you know…” She noticed he was kind of cute when he was floundering, but she pushed that thought aside.

“I don’t know if I’ll be able to sleep. I do have some reading to do, though. Are you coming?” She shrugged and started walking over the bridge. She bit back a small smile a moment later when Sylvain started to ran after her. 

_At least some things haven’t changed._

He followed her all the way to her father’s office, but paused at the doorway as she had the first time. “I don’t think I’ve been in here since…” His sentence trailed off as his face became solemn.

“I know. It’ll be the five-year anniversary of his death tomorrow… for you anyway.”

His eyebrows shot to his hairline as he ran both hands through his tousled hair. “Has it really been that long?” He seemed to be deep in thought for a moment before saying, “That means tonight was five years since the ball. Holy shit!” His tone was incredulous as he sank down onto one of the couches.

She walked over and lit some candles, took out her father’s journal, and walked over to sit beside him on the couch. She hummed and put her finger to her chin in an exaggerated thinking pose.

“What was it you said to me when we danced?”

“By…” His tone was pleading as he fervently shook his head.

She held up a finger in mock recognition and in a terrible Sylvain impression said, “I need to become a man you can trust!” 

He groaned and covered his face with both hands, his head fell to her shoulder as she chuckled softly. “You were so mad at me, and for good reason. I was a total asshole the night of Remire. But I HATED it. I was so desperate for you to forgive me, I probably would have said just about anything.” She looked down and saw his grimace.

“You are, though.”

“What?” He lifted his head slightly to look at her, and it made it so their faces were impossibly close.

“You’ve become a man I can trust. I’m really proud of you.” She could see the flush in his cheeks until he threw his hands over his face again and laid his head back down on her shoulder.

“You don’t know anything about the last five years, By. There’s nothing to be proud of, I promise.” His voice was so sad and defeated, it made her chest ache.

“You took care of Ashe, Annette, and Linhardt, correct?”

“Took care of seems like an exaggeration…”

“You helped to defend your territory, and helped to defend Felix’s, correct?”

“Well… yeah…”

“You survived all of it. You survived the last five years.” She rested her hand on Sylvain’s, which was lying on his lap. “I’m proud of you.”

He groaned dramatically and melted down to lay his head in her lap. She chuckled affectionately and stroked his hair, making him sigh like he always does when she plays with it. “Why do you always do that?”

“Do what?” She opened the first page of her father’s diary before looking down at him.

“Why are you always so…” He seemed to struggle for the correct word. His eyebrows furrowed and his lips pursed in thought. She continued to run her fingers through his hair with her free hand, using the other to balance her father’s journal on Sylvain’s chest.

“Hey… is that your father’s journal? Where did you get that?” He lifted his head and seemed to have finally realized what she was reading, or rather, attempting to read.

 _Do I tell him about the message from Claude? Do I tell him about Hilda and that she’s coming back?_ She stared down into caramel colored eyes as Sylvain lifted an eyebrow. “What’s up, By?”

She explained, “I had it stashed in my travel pack that I sent to Evergarden. Apparently, Claude asked Joel for it and he kept it safe for me this whole time.” Sylvain’s eyebrows furrowed as he sat up to face her fully. “Caspar brought my pack with him when he came. Apparently, he told Claude about the dream you all had, and he sent the pack with Caspar, just in case.”

“So, Claude knows you’re alive.” 

She tilted her head side to side and shrugged. “Not technically. He will soon, though.” When Sylvain lifted an eyebrow, she sighed. “Listen… you can’t tell anyone this.” He nodded hesitantly, still staring at her with a strange look on his face. “Hilda brought Caspar on her wyvern. She also brought me a letter from Claude. He asked me to come to Derdriu and work with him to stop the war.”

Sylvain’s face betrayed his panic, and she grabbed his hand as she shook her head. “I’m not going anywhere. I’m staying with the Lions, and I’m not giving up on Dimitri.” He relaxed, but only slightly. “Hilda is coming back on the fifteenth of the next moon to bring another message. I’m going to write to him and tell him I can’t go, but I’d like to stay in contact with him.”

It was eerie watching Sylvain’s mask start to slide onto his face again. She always found it distressing watching the light go out of his eyes as the fake grin spread across his face. His voice took on a sardonic tone as he said, “He’s been holding out for five years, has he?” 

She furrowed her eyebrows and hesitantly said, “Well… he’s the leader of the Alliance now. He’s trying to stay neutral in the war, but I don’t know how long he can hold out if we start to move against Edelgard. She’ll try to pressure him into taking a side, but if I have contact maybe it’ll help sway him. Maybe if the Kingdom, Knights of Seiros, and the Alliance work together, we can finally end this war.”

Sylvain’s eyes narrowed. “So, it doesn’t have anything to do with your relationship with Claude?” 

“My… relationship?”

“Whatever relationship you two had during the Academy days. I saw you two the night before the invasion. He was all over you!” His arms gestured wildly as the volume of his voice became louder and louder. 

She shook her head slowly and calmly said, “Sylvain, that was five years ago.”

“Not to you.” His eyes were searching hers, for what she wasn’t sure. All she knew was that she didn’t like the look in his eye.

“We didn’t have a “relationship”, Sylvain. He kissed me twice—”

“He KISSED you?!”

“The night of the ball in the goddess tower. I stopped him and told him I was a—”

“The night of the ball?!” Sylvain’s tone was incredulous as he faced away from her, his hands came up to rest on his forehead as he placed his elbows on his knees.

“Why do I feel like you are freaking out about this.” She rested a hand on his shoulder, and he chuckled darkly.

“I’m not freaking out. I just find it interesting that you kissed Claude, I guess. Especially when you were a professor.”

She very specifically said that Claude had kissed her, but it was a moot point at the moment. “Sylvain, why are you so upset right now?”

“Do you love him?” Sylvain turned to face her, his caramel brown eyes staring intently into hers. 

“Do I… love him?” 

“Do you love him?” He repeated it, sliding closer so his knees bumped hers.

“I mean… I thought he was attractive, and he was my friend… but I wouldn’t say I love him. He was a student. Besides, I didn’t really think about it with everything going on.” 

He prodded, “And now?” 

She shook her head firmly. “And now we’re going to be fighting a war. He fights for the Alliance, and I fight for the Kingdom. I fight for you.” She took his hand, and he softened slightly. “I don’t know what you want me to say.”

He opened and shut his mouth a few times, trying and failing to start a sentence. She searched his face, taking in his furrowed eyebrows and frown. His eyes were filled with too many foreign emotions for her to even begin to try and guess what was going through his mind. Eventually he quietly said, “Do you love… anyone? Did you think of anyone that way?”

 _Did I think of anyone that way?_ She closed her eyes and breathed in heavily through her nose and out through her mouth. When she opened them, Sylvain wasn’t looking at her. He had turned to stare at a candle on her father’s old desk. “I don’t know. Emotions were still so new for me, ARE still so new for me. Love seems like a big one.”

He whispered into the still room, “Yeah… it really does.”

The thought occurred to her, and she didn’t stop it before it spilled from her lips. “Did you fall in love with someone? While I was sleeping?” 

Sylvain’s shoulders tensed as he continued to stare at the candle. “I… did.” 

A pit opened up in her stomach, and she suddenly felt a bit light headed. “…Who?” She took a moment to think and then asked, “Wait… are you married?” It wasn’t unrealistic. She knew how Margrave Gautier was, and the pressure he placed on Sylvain to get married back in the Academy days. She could see how a war would add to the pressure placed on him to produce an heir. It had been five years, meaning he could have at least two kids by now. But he wouldn’t be here if he was married with children, right? 

Sylvain chuckled darkly as his head bowed. “No. When I returned after the Battle of Garreg Mach, I told my father that if he forced me into accepting a proposal, I’d leave House Gautier and never return. He’s made a few comments, but he hasn’t arranged a marriage yet. I figure I have until the end of the war. If I survive it, that is.”

She quietly asked, “What about the person you love?” 

Sylvain was silent for a long time before finally whispering, “They don’t want to be with me… not anymore anyway. I thought they did, but things changed.”

“Hey,” She scooted forward until she could bend down and look into Sylvain’s eyes. “I’m sorry.”

His eyes dropped to the ground as he murmured, “It’s my fault. After everything I’ve done, I deserve it.” 

She shook her head and grabbed his shoulder, pulling him down until his head was in her lap again. She stroked his hair as he buried his face in her legs. “You deserve to be with the one you love.”

“The one I love, huh?” His voice was empty and bitter, and she hated it.

“Are they back in Gautier? Is that what changed?” 

He grunted softly as he turned to lay on his back. His ridiculously long legs hung out past the edge of the couch as he tried to make himself comfortable. He yawned, failing to cover it with his hand, and shut his eyes. He kept his tone light, but it was obviously faked as he replied, “No. They aren’t in Gautier. Circumstances changed and it made it too hard to love me, so they left. I don’t blame them.”

She stared down at Sylvain’s face in her lap, appreciating the dusting of freckles across his nose, his auburn eyelashes brushing against his high cheekbones, the small scar on his chin that must have appeared some time while she was sleeping. _He’s even prettier than he was when we first met._

“Whoever they are… they’d be foolish to let you go.” His eyes shot open quickly, focusing in on her face, but she turned away. She grabbed her father’s journal and balanced it on his chest, opening it so she could begin reading. “Get some sleep.” He sighed heavily as she started to lightly scratch his scalp again. She still felt his gaze for a moment, but when she chanced a glance over while she turned the page, he had closed them again. 

His breathing evened out after a few pages, and his body relaxed completely. She gently removed her hand from his hair, and turned her full attention to her father’s journal. Sylvain’s steady breathing was the only sound in the room, and the longer she listened, the more relaxed she felt. 

  
She heard the creak of the door, and her eyes shot open. She turned her head and her gaze landed on Seteth. “I’ve been looking for you. Ingrid informed me about your quarters, though I wish you would have told me sooner so—” He walked further into the room and stopped as he spotted Sylvain’s head, still resting in her lap as he slept.

“Byleth…” He heaved a frustrated sigh and pinched the bridge of his nose. “This is highly inappropriate.”

She lifted a hand to massage her aching neck. Her head was pounding, and she didn’t know how long she had even slept. She was certainly in no mood to deal with whatever Seteth was talking about. She furrowed her eyebrows and looked back down at the head in her lap. “Why? It’s not like he’s my student anymore.”

Seteth angrily whispered, “You are the acting archbishop. If word got out that men were sleeping in your quarters—”

Sylvain’s head began moving in her lap, and he let out a soft groan as he started to wake. “This is hardly my quarters, and as you’ll notice we’re hardly indecent.” Caramel eyes shot open as Sylvain quickly sat up and took in Seteth’s frustrated features and moved to sit beside her, or rather behind her. She bit back a grin at the “scared of Seteth’s scolding” look that still made its way to Sylvain’s face as a grown adult. “And it’s not like I asked for this position. If you expect me to act like some sort of Saint now, you can take the job yourself.”

Seteth visibly flustered, his cheeks pinked slightly as he shook his head. “Lady Rhea would never—”

“In case you haven’t noticed, I’m not Rhea. And just like our conversation yesterday, I am not the goddess. I’m Byleth, and so long as I’m doing everything I can to stop the war and find Rhea, I feel I can do whatever I please.” Seteth’s mouth opened and shut a few times, and she huffed before saying, “Now why were you looking for me?”

Seteth straightened his shoulders and ran his hands down the front of his robes. “I’ve had Cyril prepare the Archbishop’s quarters for you. You may stay there until Lady Rhea returns.”

“I’m not sure that’s—”

He cut off her denial with a raised hand. “You should. Yours are unlivable, and you are a critical figure for the church. You might as well have the perks of said position, correct?” He cleared his throat and shook his head. “Also, I’ve sent out a group of Knights to do some hunting for provisions, and the others will do more to make sure all of the facilities are ready for use. I figured you would like a day to catch up with your former students before things become more taxing.”

A genuine smile bloomed and she nodded. “Thank you, Seteth. I appreciate the thought.”

He nodded curtly and added, “I saw the state of your things. If you would write out a list for me, I will acquire the necessary items and send them to the Archbishop’s quarters. If you could have it to me by the end of the day, it would be greatly appreciated.” 

“You don’t need to do that. I can walk to the nearest town and try to find new things. I still have some gold saved from teaching.”

Seteth firmly shook his head. “Your presence will be required here, I’m afraid. There is much planning to do if we are to win this war, after all. It is no trouble.”

She hesitantly said, “Alright. I’ll try and write some things down, then.” Seteth looked between her and Sylvain once before bowing slightly and walking out of the room.

When the sound of Seteth’s steps receded, Sylvain hesitantly said, “Holy shit. You’re the acting Archbishop.”

She felt the frown on her lips as she turned to him. “I know.”

Sylvain’s eyebrows furrowed in confusion. “Why you and not Seteth? I know you fused with the goddess and everything, but you know next to nothing about the church. You didn’t even know what Relics were when you got here.”

She sighed heavily and raised a hand to massage her still aching neck. “Well… Rhea seems to think that I’m actually Sothis.” Sylvain’s eyebrows shot to his hair line, and his eyes became impossibly wide. “Or… she thinks that Sothis will slowly take over. I’m not quite sure which.”

“Take over?” Sylvain reached out and took her hand, and she wondered whether it was on purpose or just an unconscious need to feel her like last night.

“Something like that. Before the invasion, Rhea told Seteth that I’m just a vessel that Sothis will eventually take control of, so the goddess can return to this world.” The grip on her hand became painfully tight and she shook her head. “If it was going to happen, it probably would have already. It’s…” she pursed her lips and thought about it for a while “I really don’t think Sothis would do it intentionally.”

“But, do you think it’s a possibility?” 

She shrugged and let out a heavy sigh. “I fell off a cliff, stabbed myself, and slept for five years but I’m somehow still here. I think just about anything is possible at this point.” She looked at Sylvain and pain shot through her chest at the look of terror she found across his face.

“Hey…” She pulled him into a hug, which he readily returned. “It’s going to be okay. I’m right here.” He buried his face in her neck, and she noticed he was trembling slightly. “I’m sorry. Maybe I should have kept that to myself.”

“No.” His head shot back so he could look at her intently. “I want to be here for you. You don’t have to keep things to yourself, just because you think it will strain others. I want to help you.” His eyes were wide and pleading, and her chest tightened as her vision blurred. 

“Okay.” She blinked away the tears that were forming in her eyes as Sylvain pulled her into another hug. She couldn’t name what she was feeling, perhaps it was gratitude or satisfaction. All she knew was that her unbeating heart felt exceptionally full as Sylvain held her close.

After a few more moments of embracing one another, Sylvain stood and held out a hand. She smiled and allowed him to help her up. He seemed to physically shake off the gravity of the mood before smiling as he cheerfully said, “Now… you have a free day. What do you want to do first?”

She puffed out her cheeks and blew the air out heavily. “Well, I should take my things up to my new room.” She looked over to the travel pack on the desk, and then down at her father’s journal. “Wait!” She turned to Sylvain so quickly he startled slightly. “Maybe Rhea keeps a journal! Maybe something in her room has answers to my questions!”

Sylvain’s eyes widened at the realization. “Let’s go and look then.”

She shook her head as she looked her friend over. He was still in the dirty clothes he wore under his armor. “I’ve been taking up too much of your time. You should go and clear out your room and get cleaned up. You haven’t even bathed since the fight yesterday!”

“Are you saying I stink too much to sully your fancy room?” Sylvain’s eyebrows rose and fell suggestively, and she pushed him playfully.

“Yes, that’s exactly what I’m saying.” She rolled her eyes and Sylvain chuckled.

A knock sounded at the door, and they both turned toward it as she called, “Come in!”

The door opened, and she smiled slightly as Linhardt walked in. She ran around the couch and threw herself into his arms, grinning wider at the chuckle she felt run through him. “Good morning to you too, Professor. Hello, Sylvain.” She heard Sylvain’s soft chuckle as she stepped back to look Linhardt over again. She reached out and ran her fingers through his longer, still incredibly soft, hair.

“Linhardt, you look so handsome and grown up. It’s really not fair.”

He shook his head and sighed. “Ah, Professor, I’d say keeping your youthful beauty is quite unfair as well. Don’t you agree?” 

She rolled her eyes and dropped her hand back to her side. “Yeah, about that. Remember how you said you wanted to study my Crest?” His eyebrows rose as a slow smile curved his lips. “Study me. I want to know all there is to know. I want you to work with Hanneman, as well.”

Linhardt rolled his eyes. “That’s exactly what I was coming to speak to you about, but must we include Hanneman?”

“Lin…” He focused back on her, and she smirked. “You’ll want to be in on this.”

“Well, of course I will, but why do you say it like that?” 

She lifted her shirt to show her scar, and he hummed softly, his eyes full of something like admiration. “I was stabbed through by the Sword of the Creator.” His eyes widened as he reached out and ran his fingers over the sensitive skin, before promptly reaching up to take her shirt in his hands and begin pulling it over her head.

“Woah there, Lin. Let’s not get too excited now.” Sylvain rushed forward and put his hands over Linhardt’s.

The mage groaned in frustration and said, “But I’ll need to see the entire scar. I’ll need to give her a physical and—” At the sound of her laughter he stopped to look at her in confusion. His eyes widened in realization before he put a hand to his chin and mumbled, “Oh… I suppose I should have asked before I did that.”

She shook her head, still chuckling slightly. “I don’t mind. I’ll do whatever you need.”

At Sylvain’s hesitant, “By…” she turned to look at him. He was flushed and he couldn’t seem to look at her. “Are you sure you want this?”

“Yes, of course I do. Lin’s right, I haven’t aged and I should be dead. What if it has something to do with my Crest?”

“What if it’s not? You’ll have to tell them everything you know.”

She turned to look at Linhardt, who was watching both of them with a curious look on his face. “You can keep a secret, can’t you?”

“Can I?” Linhardt looked over at Sylvain, who rolled his eyes. “Anything for you, Professor.”

“Byleth. You can call me, Byleth. I’m not really your Professor anymore, am I?”

“Byleth.” Linhardt smiled softly and nodded. “I like it.”

She walked over and pulled her pack onto her shoulder, before walking over and grabbing her father’s journal from the couch. She then grabbed Linhardt’s hand and said, “You’ll want to come with me for this part, as well.” Linhardt raised an eyebrow, but before he could say anything she turned to Sylvain and said, “Meet us up there when you’re done cleaning up if you want, okay?” 

Sylvain looked between her and Linhardt and smiled, though it looked strained. “Okay. I’ll be up in a bit.”

She didn’t wait any longer. She dragged Linhardt out the door, and then up the stairs toward Rhea’s, or rather, her quarters. “Where exactly are we going, Byleth? Every time I tried to sneak up here, I was caught by the knights.”

She smiled at the use of her name before responding, “You’ll see.”

They reached the landing and she dropped his hand when she spotted a young man standing in front of Rhea’s—her—door. His skin was darker than most, he had dark brown hair, and he wore a deep green uniform with a bow slung over his shoulders. “Wait… Cyril?” 

The young man—it really was Cyril-- turned and his eyes widened. “Professor! I’m so glad you’re alright!” 

“Cyril! You’re so much taller now! And you’re so grown up!” The young boy she remembered, was a boy no longer. He was now just a bit taller than her, and she realized he must be about the age her students were before she fell. 

Cyril smiled sheepishly and raised his hand to scratch at the back of his head. “Well it has been a while since I’ve seen ya.” 

She smiled sadly and nodded. “Yes, I guess you have a point there.”

“Look…” Cyril straightened his shoulders and his features became stern. “I don’t like that you’re gonna be staying in Rhea’s quarters. We’re gonna find her and she’s gonna come right back.” He sighed and his features softened. “But… if someone’s gonna be archbishop for now, I’m glad it’s you. You’ve always been so nice to me, just like Lady Rhea.”

She nodded and put a soft hand on his arm. “Do you want me to talk to Seteth? I can try to find different accommodations?”

His eyebrows furrowed and he shook his head. “Nah, it’s alright. Just don’t mess it up too much, okay? We’ve gotta have it spotless when she comes back.”

She crossed an arm over her chest and nodded. “I promise I’ll do my best to keep it clean.”

“Well, I’m here if you need anything. Since your archbishop and I like ya, I’ll do whatever you need me to.” Cyril reached into his pocket, pulled out a key, and placed it in her hand. “I’m really glad you’re okay, Professor.”

“Would you like to call me Byleth?” She smiled softly, but Cyril flushed and shook his head.

“Nah. Professor seems more proper.” He waved his hand and headed toward the stairs. “See ya later!”

Once he was gone, she turned to Linhardt who was busy inspecting the walls surrounding the door. Dark stains lined the stone walls, looking similar to magic scorch marks out on the battlefield. He ran a slender finger over one of the marks and wrinkled his nose in disgust. “Hubert desperately wanted into this room. There must have been a powerful ward if this much dark magic wouldn’t break it.”

He continued rambling, “Rhea was highly skilled in faith magic, and we saw whatever magic she used to get into the Holy Tomb.” Linhardt put a finger to his chin in thought before he mumbled, “Someone here would have to have the ability to release the ward. But who?”

She shrugged, immediately suspecting Seteth but unwilling to say as much, and walked forward to unlock the door. When she pushed it open, Linhardt walked past her, seemingly giving up on his thoughts on the ward over Rhea’s room, and immediately walked over to melt onto the bed. She playfully called, “How’s the bed?

“It’s fantastic.” He raised a hand to wave her over and she chuckled as she dropped her bag, kicked the door closed, and walked over to join him. She couldn’t help the sigh of relief as she sank onto the bed. It was a lot more comfortable than sleeping sitting upright on her father’s old couch, that’s for sure. “Are we here to take a nap? If so, I have no objections to that plan.” Linhardt yawned as he shifted closer to her on the bed.

“Well I was hoping you’d help me look through Rhea’s things.”

His head shot up so fast she startled. “We’re going to look through her things?” He was immediately on his feet. He walked toward the doors on right side of the room, the bathroom if she remembered correctly, and called, “What exactly are we looking for?” 

She sighed and sat up to look at him. “A journal of some sort, or any sort of records that Rhea might have been keeping.”

“And why are we looking for these things?” Linhardt had opened the door and immediately closed it again. _So, it is the bathroom._ He then started walking towards the door on the left side of the room.

“Because Rhea did something to me when I was a baby that caused me to lack a heartbeat.” She now had his full attention. His big blue eyes were glued to hers as he walked back toward her. “I think it might have something to do with why I’m alive, but I don’t know what it could be.”

“Sylvain knew this. I’m assuming that’s what he was talking about earlier?” Linhardt raised an eyebrow and came around to sit beside her on the bed.

“Yes. Only Sylvain, Felix, Claude, and now you, know about my lack of heartbeat. I don’t have any proof that Rhea did something, but my father highly suspected her because she is supposedly the one who helped my mother give birth. Though… she died… so Rhea didn’t help much.”

“May I?” Linhardt’s hand began to glow with faith magic and he lifted it above her chest. When she nodded, he placed it over her heart and hummed. “Interesting… it certainly feels different from a normal heart, but what could it be? Honestly, I’m surprised I haven’t noticed it before.” He looked over her quickly, his eyes landing on the hand over her chest as he murmured, “You really are quite fascinating.”

She shook her head and chuckled softly. “I’ve been told that once or twice.”

Linhardt patted her hand before standing and walking back toward the door on the left. She stood and began to check the bookcase. After a few moments, Linhardt called, “Byleth, I think I found something.” She walked toward the room on the left and took in the simple office. There was a desk in the corner where Linhardt currently stood, two loungers and a tea table. She hadn’t been in this room before. Rhea had always done their tea times at the little table she had in her bedroom. 

Linhardt cleared his throat, bringing her attention back to him. “It’s a letter, and it’s addressed to you.”

She furrowed her brow and walked over to stand beside Linhardt as he broke the seal and read:

**_Dear child,_ **

**_I have little time, and so I will keep this brief. I asked you to take care of things should something happen, but I wished to make myself useful as well. I left a treasure at the Holy Tomb, please take it. However, note that I set a bit of a trap to prevent thieves from stealing it. Please take ample precautions so you are not harmed when you retrieve it._ **   
**_May Sothis protect you…_ **

**_-Rhea_ **

“Her handwriting is a mess,” Linhardt remarked, as he placed the letter down on the desk. “She must have written it five years ago, just before the battle. I wonder what sort of treasure it is. An artifact, or maybe some sort of weapon?” Linhardt turned to look at her and added, “And of course I wouldn’t mind having an opportunity to look around the Holy Tomb again. Last time was far too…” he shuddered as a grimace marred his graceful features “…bloody to do any sort of exploring.”

Considering it was the start of this whole mess, she was inclined to agree. Byleth hummed and pointed down at the letter. “I wonder what sort of trap she has set up. It could be dangerous.”

Linhardt smiled smugly and tipped his head to the side. “You said as long as you were here you wouldn’t let me die, right? I’m assuming that offer still applies.”

She rolled her eyes playfully and nodded. “Of course, it does. Still, I think we should take this to Seteth and Gilbert later, and discuss it with them before doing anything further.”

He shrugged lazily and responded, “As you wish.” 

They continued searching for the next hour, methodically working through the rooms with no further success. Linhardt flopped back into the bed with a dramatic sigh and groaned, “This search is far too exhausting to be so boring. Aside from a few books I’m planning to take, I’ve found nothing.” 

Byleth stood from her crouch, where she was searching the desk for any hidden compartments, and sighed heavily. As she walked back into the bedroom she remarked, “Seteth must have combed through before we did. I wouldn’t put it past him to hide whatever Rhea might have had in here.”

“We could always do his room next?” Linhardt said through a yawn as he nuzzled into the pillows. “After a nap, of course.”

“You don’t want to go and speak with Hanneman? I thought you would be too excited about studying me to even want to sleep.” Linhardt sat up and moved to standing, walking toward her as she playfully pouted, “I thought I would be more interesting. What a shame.”

“First of all, no one is more interesting than sleep. I can’t help it. Sleepiness is my curse.” Linhardt sighed and moved his hair over his shoulder, “But I’d be lying if I said at this very moment, I’d rather sleep than study you more. I have been waiting over five years for this, after all.”

That killed whatever playfulness she had been feeling beforehand. She reached out to put a hand on the mage's arm and said, “I’m really sorry for abandoning you,” It seemed to extreme to say, but it was really what she felt she did. “I can’t imagine how hard it must have been, leaving your home and then having the person that had promised to take care of you… die.” She shook her head, looking down at her shoes instead of at whatever expression Linhardt was making. “I’m really sorry for letting you down.”

Linhardt sighed affectionately and said, “You put far too much pressure on yourself, did you know that? Only you would apologize for dying, only to come back to life to help us stop a war.” When she lifted her head to look at him, his eyes were sad, but there was an amused smile on his lips. “I only came back here because I was hoping to see you. Sure, I was sad when Seteth informed us you had died, but I always knew you were doing everything you could to keep us safe. You’ve been doing that since you arrived at the monastery, always going out of your way to make sure everyone is take care of. It's rather tiresome, really, I'm not sure how you do it all.” He shook his head and said, “My point is, I don’t blame you, and I doubt any of the others do either.”

She shook her head slowly, the memory of Dimitri’s words the night before and Felix continued ire toward her bringing tears to her eye. She whispered, “Some of them do.”

Linhardt hummed thoughtfully and nodded. “You may be right. In that case, there is nothing you can do but give them time.” He held out an arm for her and said, “Enough of this business. Let’s go and speak with Hanneman, shall we?”

They walked down the stairs and toward the Crest researcher’s office, but Byleth stopped when she heard Hanneman’s voice in Seteth’s office. She stepped closer to the wall and put a finger to her lips. Linhardt’s eyes lit up with interest as he stepped behind her. The door was cracked, and she could just make out what they were saying.

“Perhaps it’s due to my age, but I’ve been troubled by lower back pain lately,” Hanneman’s normal jovial tone echoed through the door. “Right now, I’m in the process of finding a good way to treat it.” Linhardt made a sound that let her know he was uninterested, but she quickly silenced him.

“Ah… if it is an ointment you are seeking, you are more than welcome to search the infirmary. It might interest you to know that I have contacted Manuela, and she should be returning to the monastery soon. You could bring up such issues to her when she does?” Seteth’s voice was an interesting mixture of annoyed and awkward in the face of the inquiry.

“I don’t know that Manuela would understand what I am going through. I do not mind asking her about the pain itself, but…”

Seteth’s stern voice cut Hanneman’s complaint off. “What are you trying to say?”

Hanneman chuckled, seeming amused, and said, “Oh, nothing. I am only lamenting the fact that I am getting old. It is a pastime I’m not sure I enjoy. Yet I can’t help but notice that time hasn’t taken such a toll on you. I met you when you first came to the monastery to begin your position as Lady Rhea’s advisor, what, twenty-six years ago? You haven’t seemed to age at all since then.”

“Impossible…” Linhardt’s whisper sounded in her ear, and she was inclined to agree. Seteth looked to be in his early to mid-thirties at most. Was he like her father? Far older than he appeared? Also… twenty-six years ago… that would have been right around the time she was born. Was it before or after her mother’s death? Before or after Jeralt fled the monastery?

“The signs of age may not write themselves plainly on my face, but I feel the strain of years as much as you.”

“Is that right? But then, that doesn’t explain your sister…” Hanneman hummed thoughtfully as Linhardt leaned against Byleth’s back, trying to be closer to the crack in the door. “Your sister Flayn was born around the time I came to the monastery from the Empire, yes?”

“There’s no way Flayn is twenty-six…” Linhardt mumbled in her ear as he pressed against her.

Hanneman continued, “In all that time, I never knew you to pay her a visit or to write her letters. Yet somehow, the two of you seem very close. Like a family who has spent years together. Could this not suggest a different interpretation? Perhaps, like you, she has—”

“You WILL NOT pry into Flayn’s business!” Seteth’s angrily raised voice rang through the door, just as Sylvain’s voice called from down the hallway, “Hey By! What are you guys doing? I was just on my way to find you.”

The voices from inside the office quickly quieted as Byelth dragged a thoughtfully mumbling Linhardt back a few steps and called back, “We are going to Hanneman’s office. We plan to speak with him about my Crest.” She stared pointedly at Sylvain, trying to convey that he should keep quiet, but he looked between them and Seteth’s door in confusion. 

Sylvain opened his mouth to respond, but was cut off when Hanneman entered the hallway. “I’m sorry, did I just hear that you were wishing to speak with me?” Seteth walked out just behind him, arms crossed and face full of a mixture of fury and fear that made Byleth’s chest tighten.

She nodded, wrapping an arm around a still mumbling Linhardt’s arm (Did he just say Cethleann?) and said, “Yes. I was hoping that you and Linhardt would be willing to look into my Crest.”

“Really?!” The Crest researcher’s eyes went wide with interest as he put a hand to his chin. “You have always been so reluctant to have me do any sort of study on your Crest. If you don't mind me asking, what happened to cause the sudden change of heart?”

“I'm wondering if it has anything to do with my long slumber, and some other things that have been happening to me recently. I was hoping you could help me get some answers.” She watched Seteth’s jaw tighten as she looked at him over Hanneman’s shoulder. 

_“He knows something!”_ A voice that almost sounded like Sothis, said in the back of her mind. She knew it wasn’t her, though. It was just her own screaming thoughts as she tried to focus on the now overly-excited scholar in front of her.

“Oh my! Yes, please. If you’ll come into my office, there is much I wish to speak with you about.” Hanneman was already walking toward his office, and she, Linhardt, and Sylvain moved to follow. 

When she walked by, Seteth grabbed her elbow. He quietly hissed, “Are you certain this is wise?”

She turned her face to study his features as she whispered back, “I have to get answers somehow, right?” 

She ripped her arm away from Seteth’s hold and reached out to Sylvain, who was watching them both with a look of confusion. “Are you going to come in with us? It might not be very interesting. I know you aren’t fond of Crests, and these two tend to get excited. Well… as excited as Linhardt can physically get.”

Sylvain shook his head and placed a hand on hers, which had moved to hold his arm. “I’m here for you, remember?”

“I remember.” She smiled up at him, and pushed the door to Hanneman’s office open.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've decided that I'm going to use song titles for the chapter names because... why not? *shrugs* This one is Next to Me by Imagine Dragons (Only semi fitting for the chapter, but great song nonetheless)
> 
> Important Note: I do not profess to know anything about any actual mental illnesses that Dimitri may or may not be suffering from during the course of Azure Moon. I know there is a lot of controversy from people who feel it's unfair that Dimitri is portrayed in ways that are not accurate for mental illness, and I don't wish to offend anyone. 
> 
> My headcanon is that Dimitri's grasp on reality is very loose at certain points in time. When he is rambling to his ghosts in front of the rubble, he thinks that Byleth is a ghost at first. Just as Sylvain panics when he wakes up and Byleth is not beside him, Dimitri forgets that she is, in fact, alive. He sees her as a ghost, and regrets his inability to protect her. When he realizes that she is in fact there, alive and well, feral Dimitri rears his ugly head (or not so ugly depending on your opinion). We'll explore his treatment of Byleth and the others in later chapters.
> 
> Sylvain is my baby and I love him, but honestly he's all over the place. Linhardt is also my baby, and I would readily die for him. We're going to see some "research" next chapter, all from Sylvain's perspective, which will be A LOT of fun.
> 
> I know I'm ragging on Seteth, and I'm sorry. He's been keeping his secrets for a long time, I don't think he's going to spill it all on the first indication that Byleth wants answers. They WILL make up, and it WILL be glorious. (I love the little lettuce fam, but I'll have to write another fic if I want to really bring it to fruition. Sorry Seteth. You ain't getting any this fic.)
> 
> This is going to be another day that spans for multiple chapters. I know we aren't covering much time here, but we'll do some mini time jumps after we get through all of the necessary reunions because I'm emotionally bonded with all of these characters and there is SO MUCH for Byleth to catch up on. Sorry if you hate the pacing.


	6. If You Could Only See

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sylvain sticks by Byleth in an attempt to try and lend his support. He can't help but notice how Byleth affects the people around her.
> 
> If You Could Only See by Tonic is a secret jam.

~Sylvain~

They entered the room to see Hanneman and Linhardt huddled near the bookshelf speaking in enthusiastic, but hushed, tones as Hanneman pulled out various books and showed them to Linhardt who either nodded or shook his head as he made piles on the desk behind him. 

Sylvain had never spent any time in Hanneman’s office, but as he looked around, he couldn’t help but be grateful he never had before. He noticed a panel of glass on the floor and stepped toward it to examine it, out of curiosity. “Stick your arm out.” Byleth nodded toward it and then cast another furtive glance over at Hanneman and Linhardt.

He did and immediately grimaced as the Crest of Gautier glowed purple before him. Byleth stepped up beside him and hummed softly. “You can still leave if you’d like, I won’t hold it against you. I’m sure you want to catch up with the others, and I know you don’t like all of this.” She gestured to his Crest, still glowing above their heads, and then toward Hanneman and Linhardt.

His smile was strained as he said, “If you want me to go, I can.” She kept offering him a way out, last night and this morning. He wasn’t sure how he was supposed to feel about it. Did she not want him there? Did she have things she wanted to keep to herself? Did she just… not want him there?

“No.” She shook her head and bit her bottom lip before glancing off to the side. “I always like having you around.”

There was an overly flirty comment right on the tip of his tongue, but right as he opened his mouth Hanneman said, “I believe a physical is in order. I’d like to have a look at the scar Linhardt mentioned.”

 _Shit._ Byleth nodded and asked, “Here, or in the infirmary?”

Hanneman put a hand to his chin and glanced around his office. “The infirmary would work best.”

They all turned to head across the hall, and Byleth glanced up at him. “Do you want to come in? Or are you waiting outside?”

 _Shit._ He followed her out into the hallway, head spinning as he tried to swallow through his dry throat. “Umm…”

“How do you want me?” Byelth evenly asked as she walked into the room. _Oh goddess… what he wouldn't give..._

Hanneman responded, “However you’re most comfortable.” 

“Okay.” Byleth threw her sword on the bed, still in its custom holster, and easily took off her coat and black top before moving to sit on the bed. This was one of those moments where Sylvain remembered Byleth had been raised as a mercenary, rather than being raised a noble. She was completely comfortable with her state of undress, and her face was completely impassive as Hanneman and Linhardt quickly moved to stand before her. “I’ll just move my breast band if that’s okay?” She hooked a thumb under the elastic band and lifted it as Sylvain PROMPTLY turned to face the door instead.

“Fascinating,” Hanneman whispered. “And you’re saying that you were stabbed with the Sword of the Creator?”

He heard Byleth’s voice behind him as she said, “I fell off the cliff and tried to use the whip function to stop my fall. The last thing I remember before waking up in the river is red orange light.”

“I am curious about that. You say you were asleep for five whole years?” Hanneman’s tone was inquisitive and Sylvain risked a glance over his shoulder. She had put her breast band back down. It wasn’t too bad, he’d seen her like this in the sauna before, but it still felt like his whole body was slowly burning up. _Pull yourself together, idiot._

Byleth nodded and Hanneman’s eyes lit up. “Incredible. Perhaps this is another effect of your Crest. I do look forward to investigating that in further detail.”

“Are there any tales of something similar happening to Nemesis? I’m afraid I haven’t done much reading about him.” Byleth looked at each of them as Hanneman ran a finger along the length of her scar. The Crest scholar then turned away and began scribbling on a piece of parchment. Linhardt had circled around and was inspecting her back with his hands glowing with faith magic.

Linhardt answered, “Nothing that I’ve ever read, and I read just about everything I could get my hands on after you pulled it out of the Holy Mausoleum.” He looked up at Hanneman and reported, “There is no organ or muscle damage as you would expect from a wound like this. If the scar wasn’t there, I wouldn’t believe it had even happened.”

Hanneman stopped writing long enough to put a hand to his chin and nod. He then answered her previous question. “I’ve never heard of such a thing either, though most of the information we have on Nemesis is scripture and legend, and that doesn’t really give us any details on how the Crest affected him. Can you tell me any affects you feel when your Crest flares in battle?”

Byleth looked up at the ceiling with a thoughtful expression. “In battle, it heals me or gives me energy. My strikes are harder when it flares, and there have been times where it stops the enemies’ counterattack.” She tilted her head and added, “Though it’s hard to know whether that’s from my Crest or from the…” She paused and furrowed her brow “… goddess’ blessing.”

Hanneman nodded thoughtfully. “Ah, yes! When your hair and eyes changed color.” 

Byleth nodded. “Yes, among other things. I’m stronger, have greater stamina, and my magic is stronger since then. The Sword of the Creator is more powerful, and my Crest seems to flare more often in battle, as well.” _Not to mention the fact that she can turn back time, but whatever. Byleth really is worth an entire army. Maybe she can end this war…_

“Can you hold your sword up for me?” Linhardt asked as he got off the bed and walked around to stand in front of her again. She held up the massive sword ( _How does she even handle that thing with how tiny she is? Not that she doesn’t have a ton of muscle, but STILL?!_ ), and red orange light pulsed through it as Linhardt leaned over to look at it. “Do you know why it doesn’t have a Crest Stone?”

She shook her head. “I found it like this. Lady Rhea never said anything about it. Don’t all of the other Relics have one?” 

Hanneman and Linhardt both nodded, matching looks of intrigue written all over their faces. They both whispered, “Fascinating…” making Byleth chuckle in amusement as she rolled her eyes.

Hanneman shook his head slightly and asked, “Are there any side-effects you have noticed from your extended sleep? I notice your hair did not grow, and there’s no sign of muscle atrophy from lack of use. Not to mention that at your age I would have expected five years to show in your features, but you look the exactly the same.” 

“Not really, no.” She shook her head with a slight frown.

Linhardt interjected, “After the battle with the bandits, she was very weak. She practically had to be carried around until we could finally get some food into her. It seemed like the effects of lack of nutrition didn’t kick in until after the battle, but once it did, she was greatly affected. Right, Byleth?”

Byleth grimaced and nodded. “Sorry about that.” 

Guilt flared in his gut as he glanced over at the stained glass window. While he was off breaking down in the woods, she was having to be carried around. He supposed it was just another thing to add to the list of things that make him feel shitty.

Hanneman mumbled, “That’s unsurprising. Five years lacking any form of nutrition, followed by sheer adrenaline over the course of several hours…” 

Sylvain mentally added, _“Realizing you’ve lost five years of your life, your student attacking you, and then being abandoned by your friends when you need them most…”_ He spoke aloud, “Can she put her shirt back on?”

Byleth smirked and playfully said, “What? Sylvain Jose Gautier has a problem with a half-dressed woman?”

Without thinking he said, “It’s not like I enjoy looking at your scar.” He tried not to wince as her smirk fell and something resembling hurt flashed over her features. _Smooth, Sylvain. Real smooth._

Hanneman was unfazed by the awkwardness that just transpired. “You can put your shirt on. I think we’ve looked over everything enough for now.” 

Linhardt yawned while stretching his arms above his head. He sighed and murmured, “You are a beautiful mystery, Byleth.” 

Sylvain fought the urge to punch himself.

“Indeed,” Hanneman agreed, before quickly adding, “And by that I mean the mystery part, of course.”

Byleth chuckled softly before asking, “Is there anything else you guys would like me to do today?”

Hanneman thought about it for a moment before saying, “Well, I would like to monitor how your Crest flares when you fight…”

“I’ve been meaning to spar with some of my students to see how they’ve progressed? You could come and watch?” Byleth’s eyes lit up at the idea, and Sylvain couldn’t help thinking her excitement was cute.

“That’s a fabulous idea! I have a spell that should make it flare more frequently. It shouldn’t affect you past a few hours, though fatigue is common when it wears off. Something about the strain of a Crest flaring more often puts some strain on the body.” Byleth nodded, seeming unperturbed by the idea.

With her consent established, Hanneman said, “Shall we meet in the training hall in about an hour? There are some things I would like to make note of before going to watch.”

Byleth nodded. “That should be enough time to get some food and round everyone up.” She stood from the bed, strapped the Sword of the Creator back onto her hip, and bowed to each of them. “I’ll see you both in about an hour.” Linhardt yawned and immediately sunk onto the bed where she had been sitting, probably already half asleep.

She rolled her eyes with an affectionate look on her face. She turned to Hanneman and quietly asked, “Will you wake him when you come?” Hanneman sighed exasperatedly and nodded.

She strode right past him and opened the door, and he quickly followed her out. As they were walking down the stairs he hesitantly said, “You didn’t mention the other… uses… with your Crest.” 

She took in their surroundings before whispering, “I don’t think I’ll share my power or the other Relic issue if I can help it. There will already be a target on my back, I don’t wish to bring further attention to myself.”

That brought him to a halt for a moment. He hadn’t considered the fact that as a commander in the war, she would now be a primary target. Taking out the enemy general, whether on the battlefield or off, was always a primary goal. Why hadn’t he thought of that before? Things hadn’t really gotten started yet, but as soon as Edelgard finds out that she’s alive… as soon as HUBERT finds out…

Byleth cut off his scary train of thought as she said, “Let’s go and find some food. I am STARVING.”

They headed to the dining hall and ran into Mercedes and Dorothea, both eating a portion of the dried meat and bread that had been placed on the counter. He and Byleth grabbed some and went back to sit with the girls. “Good afternoon you two,” Dorothea practically sang from her seat beside Mercedes. “What have you two been up to?”

He shot her a look, but she smiled innocently and looked back to Byleth as she said, “We were just in with Hanneman and Lin.” When her answer was greeted with looks of confusion she quickly explained, “I’m having them do some studying of my Crest. I’m hoping to find some answers for all of the weird things that have been happening.”

“Have you considered that these things may be happening due to your connection with the goddess?” Mercedes softly asked, followed by a thoughtful hum. “It would make sense that she would bring you back to end this awful war. Her followers are suffering.”

Byleth chuckled dryly and muttered, “No pressure.”

Mercedes eyes went wide before she reached over the table to take Byleth’s hand. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to imply that I think a burden like that would rest solely on your shoulders. After all, she did send that dream to the rest of us, to make sure we would come to help you, right? She’s not leaving you alone with this.”

“Yeah! And even those that didn’t have the dream are going to help,” Dorothea added. “We all want to support you, and we all want to end this war. We’re with you every step of the way.”

“Thank you,” Byleth’s eyes became misty, before she dropped Mercedes hand and turned back to her food. “I can’t imagine doing any of this without all of you.”

Byleth finished her food quickly as Mercedes and Dorothea excitedly filled her in on all they had done over the last five years. Sylvain discreetly slid over some of his food, which Byleth tried to slide back but he insisted, as they filled her in on each of the children they were working with.

“Manuela and the opera troop are going to bring the children here,” Mercedes softly explained. “There’s been more and more pressure from the Imperial soldiers, so we’d like to have them here where we can keep them safe.” 

Byleth nodded with a thoughtful look on her face. “I’ll speak with Seteth about finding a place for them to stay. He’ll know how to handle things best.”

They talked a while longer before Byleth said, “I’m going to gather everyone in the training grounds, if you’d like to join. I figure we can all spar and catch up?”

“Of course, Professor.” Merecedes smiled softly and nodded.

Byleth stood from her chair, but stalled before she turned toward the door. She said, “You can call me Byleth, if you’d like. After all, I’m not your professor anymore.” 

“I’ll try my best. It might be a tough habit to break.” Mercedes giggled and Dorothea nodded in agreement as Byleth waved and headed toward the door.

They walked out the door in the direction of the dorms and immediately heard shouting from the direction of the greenhouse. “Stop! Stop, please! What are you doing?!” 

Byleth took the stairs two at a time, hurrying in the direction of the greenhouse as he tried to keep up with her. They pulled open the door and found an unusually upset Ashe yelling at some knights. One of them said, “Seteth has tasked us with preparing the soil so we can start planting food supplies.”

“But those flowers are alive! You can’t pull them up!” Ashe’s tone was frantic, and Byleth quickly walked forward to put a gentle hand on his shoulder. The archer startled at her touch, and his eyes went wide as he yelped, “Professor!” The knights all stopped what they were doing and bowed to her, and Ashe immediately hung his head. “I’m sorry. I don’t mean to yell.”

“Why don’t you tell me what’s going on?” Byleth’s tone was gentle as she gave him a soft smile.

Ashe lifted his head to look at her. “The Duscur flowers somehow survived, and...” Ashe’s lip trembled before he bowed his head again.

Byleth nodded and turned to the knights. “Would you please leave the flowers? They are very special to us. Ashe and I can care for them when you are finished. If Seteth has any objections, send him my way.”

Various answers of, “Of course, Your Grace,” echoed through the greenhouse as each of the knights bowed.

She smiled softly and added, “Thank you for all that you are doing. I really appreciate it.” Sylvain watched each of them puff up at the praise, before returning to work with a greater fervor than before. Sylvain watched all of the awed glances that they stole at Byleth and wondered if she even knew how people looked at her. He also wondered how she felt about it if she did know.

Byleth wrapped an arm around Ashe, who was still staring at the floor, and led him out of the greenhouse. Once they stepped outside and the door had shut behind them, the archer bowed deeply and said, “I’m sorry, Professor. I shouldn’t have yelled at the knights. They were just doing their job.”

“Don’t worry about that, I understand.” Byleth rubbed his back softly.

Sylvain asked, “Did you say the Duscur flowers survived?” He didn’t know anything about gardening, but he could imagine who had planted them, and why Ashe was so upset.

Ashe sniffled as a tear trailed down his cheek. “They require very little water, but it’s still a miracle they survived.” His body shook with a sob, and Byleth quickly pulled him into a hug. Ashe clung to her as he cried, “I just can’t believe he’s gone. There was still so much I wanted to say to him, and so much I wanted to learn from him. He was our friend!”

“I know.” Byleth’s cheeks were wet with tears when Sylvain walked around to pat Ashe’s shoulder in sympathy. His chest felt tight with emotion. In all of the overwhelm of Byleth being back and everything that happened with Felix, he hadn’t had the opportunity to think about the fact that Dedue was no longer with them. Byelth had told them he had died protecting Dimitri, but it hadn’t sunk in with all of the other information he had to process.

“Why don’t we set up a place for him in the graveyard?” Byleth said as she continued to rub the archer’s back. “We’ll take some of his flowers and replant them, and we can even have a stone made. We could hold a little service for him tonight.”

Ashe stood straight and wiped his face before saying, “That’s a great idea, Professor.” 

“I’m going to spar with the others for a while. You can come if you’d like? After we’re done, I’ll help you with the flowers.” She wiped a stray tear from his cheek and added, “How does that sound?”

“Thank you, Professor.” Ashe’s smile was weak, but he looked better than he had before. “Do you want me to help you find everyone?” 

“Would you?” Byleth smiled and Ashe’s smile became wider. “That would help a lot. Sylvain and I will check the second-floor dorms, if you want to check the lower floor? Tell everyone they don’t have to come, but that I’d love to have the chance to catch up.”

Ashe waved and called, “Will do!”

When Ashe was further away, Sylvain stepped in front of Byleth and asked, “Are you alright?”

Byleth wasn’t looking at him, she was looking down at the ground. “I failed them both, but I think I failed Dedue most of all. I knew he was dedicated to protecting Dimitri, but I should have tried harder to tell him he was his own person. I should have told him how special he was, just for being him.”

“It’s not your fault, By.” He rested his hands on her shoulders, but she shrugged them off.

“It is.” She shook her head and finally looked up. Her standard cool neutrality was written, or perhaps forced, across her features. “We should go and gather the others. I don’t want to keep Hanneman waiting.”

“Ingrid, Felix, and Caspar are likely already in the training grounds. Why don’t you head there, and I’ll go and check just in case?” 

The corner of her mouth twitched up ever so slightly as she nodded. “Thank you.” She walked a few steps away before turning back and calling, “I expect a spar with you, as well.”

He chuckled and rubbed the back of his neck. “Don’t expect too much from me. It’s not like I’ve worked as hard as the others have.” 

She shook her head and rolled her eyes. “You don’t fool me, Syl.”

He watched her walk away and thought, _“If only that were true.”_

He had been right about the others. The second floor was deserted, so he slowly made his way to the training hall. The door had been taken off Byleth’s old quarters, and two of the knights were carrying out the broken pieces of her furniture as he walked by. He waved to them and kept walking.

When he walked in, his ears were immediately assaulted with the sound of cheers coming from his former classmates. Everyone was circled along the edge of the small arena watching Felix and Byleth as they sparred. Sylvain took in a sharp breath and stared wide eyed.

He had watched Felix and Byleth spar many times back in the Academy days, but it was different then. Felix was skilled, but not nearly as skilled as Byleth was. He wasn’t as fast or fluid as Byleth was, purely from lacking the experience that Byleth had in droves due to her mercenary upbringing. Felix had come far in the year they were here, and by the end they were a sight to behold.

But now? Now they were beautiful. That was the only word that came to mind as he took in their determined faces, fluid movements, and agile footwork. They danced around the arena, as the sound of their swords clashing bounced off the stone walls. The sunlight fell on them, making Byleth’s hair seem to glow as it swayed with each of her movements. Felix was in tight training pants and an undershirt, and Sylvain took in every inch of bared flesh and flexed muscles as the swordsman tried to gain the advantage.

“ _I REALLY shouldn’t be aroused by this,_ ” was a distant thought in his mind… But he definitely was. His breathing was quicker, his heart was pounding in his ears, and his palms were sweaty. He was utterly entranced as they moved together.

Felix hissed as Byleth landed a blow to his shoulder, and she pressed the advantage in the wake of his distraction. She lunged, sweeping her sword toward Felix’s opposite shoulder, but he ducked below the swing. He quickly righted himself and raised his sword to block Byleth’s overhead strike. Byleth’s lip curled into a smirk right before she landed a brutal front kick to Felix’s stomach. Felix fell onto his back with his eyes wide. Before he could roll away, Byleth pounced onto his torso. Her knees caged him in, and Felix’s chest rose and fell as he stared up at Byleth. Her training sword rested on his throat as she said, “Yield?”

Felix dropped his head to the ground with a frustrated sigh as he growled, “Fine. I yield.”

Cheers erupted around him, but he only had eyes for Felix and Byleth. Byleth slowly stood and offered a hand to Felix. She said something Sylvain couldn’t hear, and Felix smirked as he took her hand and allowed Byleth to pull him up. Byleth attempted to blow the bangs out of her face, making Felix roll his eyes. He stepped behind her, saying something Sylvain couldn’t hear, and began to pull Byleth’s hair back.

“Wow! Is it hot in here, or is it just me?” He jolted before turning to look at an amused Dorothea.

He swallowed heavily and combed his fingers through his hair, trying to calm his racing heartbeat. He threw on his best smile and responded, “It’s not just you, baby. You’re so hot, it makes everyone in the room sweat.” 

Dorothea rolled her eyes playfully and batted at his arm. “You’re wasting your charms here, Sylvain.”

“What?!” He put a hand to his chest to portray his mock-shock. “Has someone stolen the heart of our lovely Dorothea?”

She groaned and put a hand to her forehead in her apparent distress. “I wish! Oh, to find love in a time of war. Imagine finding a love like all of the tragic operas, but without the tragedy. Wouldn’t that be so romantic?” 

“If that’s what you want, then I’m not wasting my charms.” He winked and planted a kiss on her cheek, but her smile dropped as she cleared her throat softly.

“Professor! Felix! That was quite the spar. You were both beautiful enough for the stage.” Dorothea cooed as she moved to fuss with Byleth’s braid, making her flush prettily. Felix scowled and turned away, but not without cutting Sylvain a sharp look that hurt only slightly. Or maybe a lot.

“Dorothea, I’m sweaty and gross,” Byleth tilted her head to her fist and grinned. “By the way, are you finally going to allow me to teach you some swordsmanship?”

“Dorothea?” Felix turned back and pointedly looked the songstress up and down. “You want to teach Dorothea swordsmanship?”

Both girls gave him an unimpressed look, and Sylvain chuckled as he crossed his arms behind his head. “I don’t think this is a fight you want to pick, Fe.”

“Because you’ll lose.” Ingrid walked up beside them with a lance resting on her shoulder. “You’re underestimating Dorothea’s abilities.” 

Felix rolled his eyes and said, “Have you come to spar?”

“Not with you.” Ingrid smiled and turned to Byleth. “I’d like to try my hand with the Professor.”

“With sparring, or in something else, gorgeous?” Dorothea playfully called from Byleth’s side, making Ingrid roll her eyes.

In a flat tone the pegasus knight retorted, “With a lance.” 

Byleth snorted and shook her head. “Sure, let me check in with Hanneman and Linhardt to make sure they don’t need anything else from me beforehand.”

Once Byleth was gone, and Dorothea and Ingrid were distracted as they spoke with one another, Sylvain turned to Felix and whispered, “Hey… can we—”

Felix promptly cut him off with a sharp shake of his head. “No.” Felix turned and walked over to Bernadetta, who startled slightly before giving a soft smile and saying something Sylvain couldn’t hear over the noise of the room.

“Wow. What did you do this time?” Ingrid was still watching Felix when Sylvain turned to look at her.

“Why do you assume it was something I did?” His tone betrayed his frustration, and Ingrid raised her eyebrows as Dorothea shot him a sympathetic look. He groaned and then grumbled, “Just forget it.” He left Ingrid and Dorothea behind, walking in the opposite direction Felix had taken to go and stand with Ashe, Annette, and Mercedes on the other side of the room.

“Is everything alright? You look upset.” Annette raised an eyebrow as he walked up and he shook his head, not wanting to answer. The red headed mage looked him over for a moment before shaking her head and saying, “Sylvain! Help me convince Ashe to spar with the Professor! He’s gotten really good with a lance, and I bet she’d be super proud.”

Ashe shook his head and chuckled nervously. “I’m nothing compared to Sylvain, Ingrid, or His Highness.”

“Well, it’s not your main weapon. Your bow skills have grown as well. I think she’d be impressed with how well you shoot from horseback now, too.” Sylvain patted the archer’s shoulder as Mercedes nodded in agreement.

“Sylvain is right. We all have different strengths, but I agree with Annie. You should show her how far you’ve come. I’m sure she’ll be impressed.”

Ashe nodded and put a hand to his chin. “To be honest, I’m kind of excited to be back here. It will be exciting to be able to learn more from her and have everyone close by again, even if it is for a terrible reason like this war.” 

Ashe’s eyes widened as he turned to the girls beside him. “I almost forgot to tell you! The Professor wants to hold a little service for Dedue tonight. She’s going to help me set up a place for him in the graveyard, where we can pay our respects.”

“Oh!” Mercedes clasped her hands in front of her chest as her eyes began to water. “That’s a lovely idea. I’m sure Dedue would have appreciated it.”

They stopped their conversation as Ingrid and Byleth walked into the ring. Annette cheered loudly, and was joined by the others as Sylvain leaned up against a pillar to watch. His eyes were drawn to a pair of amber ones across the ring before those amber eyes promptly flicked away. Felix had a subtle frown on his lips, and his shoulders were tense as he watched Byleth and Ingrid fight. Sylvain wanted to do something to make that frown go away, but he knew he was the reason it was there. 

A weight settled in his gut, and he pretended to watch Ingrid and Byleth spar as he thought over ways he could possibly get Felix to talk to him. The spar lasted a couple minutes, until Byleth knocked Ingrid’s lance from her hands. Once Ingrid had yielded, Byleth turned her head and looked in Felix’s direction. A small smile curved the swordsman’s lips, but it dropped when he noticed Sylvain’s stare. 

The weight in his gut became heavier.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sooo... I'm going to take a brief hiatus from posting chapters. It should only be about a week, but we'll see what happens. I've been writing several hours every day and my brain is EXHAUSTED. I mean... I've produced over 375,000 words in three months for this fic. My brain is tired, and I'm afraid it's making my writing suck.
> 
> Just wanted to give a heads up so you know what's going on. Thanks for your support!


	7. What Lies Beneath (Foreboding)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The arrival of an unexpected stranger has Felix (even more) on edge.

~Felix~

Training and sparring with Byleth went on for hours, until Byleth was tired enough to need a break. It was interesting to watch everyone and see how far everyone had progressed while they were all in different parts of Fodlan. When Byleth called it quits, they all sat in a circle catching everyone up on what they had been doing the last five years and telling Byleth stories.

He could tell that Bernadetta had had enough of the excitement and socializing, and honestly, he had as well. He nudged her with his shoulder and said, “I’m going to go. Do you want me to walk you to your room?”

Bernadetta nodded enthusiastically and leaned over to whisper something to Dorothea before they moved to leave. When the door shut behind them, Bernadetta linked her hands in front of herself and said, “Are you going to the service they are holding for Dedue tonight?”

He grimaced and looked off to the side. “No. I wasn’t close with him.”

“But it would be nice to—” She cut off with a terror-filled scream, and Felix had his sword drawn in the blink of an eye. 

He scanned the area, but didn’t see anything. Bernadetta had moved behind him, and was muttering things under her breath as she trembled violently. “What the hell just happened?! What did you see?!” 

“G-G-Ghost… ghost! H-He’s dead. He’s dead. He’s coming to haunt me. He hates you, Bernie. H-He hates you! He’s come back for revenge. It’s all your fault, Bernie.” She had her hand painfully wrapped around his arm. He tried to uncurl her fingers while still scanning the immediate area for danger.

“What are you talking about?!” She whimpered at his harsh tone, and after a deep breath through his nose he said in a somewhat softer tone, “What did you see? Can you tell me?”

“What happened?” Byleth ran out, Sword of the Creator drawn, and scanned the area as some of the others ran out behind her.

Bernadetta stammered, “J-Jasper. I-It looked like Jasper. But he’s dead. D-Dead. Dead. Dead.” 

Byleth was still scanning the area as she asked, “Where did you see him, Bernadetta?” 

“She thinks she saw a ghost. Why are you asking?” He glanced over and took in Byleth’s hardened features as her eyes slowly scanned the area.

“Because she thinks she saw a ghost, but it may be a person who just looks like whomever she thinks it is.” _Imperial spies._

He sheathed his sword and turned to take hold of Bernadetta’s arms. “Where did you see him, Bernadetta?”

She pointed a quivering finger toward the gap between the bathhouse and Byleth’s room, and Byleth took off running in that direction. Ashe quickly ran after her, bow already drawn, as Dorothea walked up to stand beside Bernadetta. “Can you tell me what he looked like Bern?” Bernadetta shook her head and moved to hug Dorothea, who hushed her softly and ran a hand through her hair. “Let’s get you to your room. Maybe then you can tell us, okay?”

He looked in the direction that Byleth had run off in, but he couldn’t see her or Ashe. “I’ll help you get her to her room.”

Sylvain called, “Everyone else, search the area. Stay in pairs, and look for unfamiliar faces.” Felix glanced back to see everyone nodding as they moved toward the dorm rooms and bathhouse.

The trio moved down the pathway with Felix scanning their surroundings all the while. Bernadetta was still shaking, so whoever she saw had to be someone she was really close to. He had an idea of who she might be talking about, and it wasn’t a pretty situation. He pondered whether a trip to Varley territory to take care of the Count was too reckless. He knew it was, but couldn’t help thinking it would be worth it.

They got Bernadetta back to her room and Dorothea sat beside her on the bed as Felix stood near the door. Dorothea ran a hand through the archer’s hair as she soothingly said, “Now Bern, can you tell me what the person looked like?”

“H-He… he looked like Jasper.” Bernadetta sat against the wall with her knees pulled to her chest. “M-My parents always told me never to befriend commoners, they called them scum.”

Dorothea’s eyes widened. “Hold on! Scum! They called me—they called commoners—they called us scum?!” 

Bernadetta bowed her head between her knees and her voice was muffled as she said, “Yeah. But once, a long time ago, I secretly made friends with one… a boy.” Felix scowled and turned away. His suspicions were confirmed. He had already heard this story, and he knew it didn’t end well. 

She continued, “W-When my father found out about it, he disappeared the very next day. I heard he was found beaten half to d-death, and I never saw him again.” She lifted her head to look at Dorothea with tear filled eyes. “That’s w-why I was so scared to make f-friends with you while we were at the Academy. I was afraid if my f-father found out, he’d do the same thing to y-you.”

“Oh Bern.” Dorothea pulled the purple haired archer into a hug as she began to cry. “I never knew that kind of thing really happened. You hear stories, sure, but… Oh, Bern. I’m so sorry.” The songstress rubbed Bernadetta back and proclaimed, “I’m proud to be your commoner friend!”

That made Bernadetta cry even harder as she wailed Dorothea’s name. Dorothea smirked slightly, and her eyes held a dangerous glint as she said, “I wish your father would try something, because then I could return the favor.”

Bernadetta sniffled and lifted her head from Dorothea’s shoulder. “Re-Return the favor?”

Dorothea chuckled dryly and shook her head. “When I was with the opera, you better believe I had run-ins with the most wicked, terrible men. I survived kidnapping, attempted murders, all kinds of stuff. But you know what? I broke those guys’ arms. Snap! It was a thank you for all the trouble they went through trying to hurt me.”

Bernadetta dried her eyes and murmured, “You’re incredible, Dorothea.” Felix turned to the side to hide his smirk. Maybe he had been underestimating Dorothea earlier.

A knock sounded at the door, and after getting confirmation from Bernadetta, Felix turned to open it. Byleth stood in the doorway and asked, “Is it okay if I come in, Bernadetta?” The archer nodded and Byleth walked over to sit on her other side. “I know this might be hard, but I really need you to tell me what the man you saw looked like.”

Dorothea nodded and took Bernadetta’s hand. “Bern, we have to keep an eye out for anyone Edie and Hubie may have sent to watch the monastery. We don’t want them to know we are here if we can help it.”

Bernadetta squared her shoulders and looked between the two women. “U-um… he had light purple hair… lighter than mine. And it was long like the Professor’s. Oh! And light purple eyes.” She deflated slightly and murmured, “He looked just like Jasper.”

Byleth nodded slowly and rubbed Bernadetta’s back. “Thank you. Will you let me know if you ever see him again?” Bernadetta nodded and Byleth stood and moved toward the door.

Felix looked over at Dorothea and asked, “Can you stay with her for a while?”

Dorothea nodded and put an arm around Bernadetta. “Sure thing.” 

Byleth walked out the door and Felix followed her out. When she glanced over at him, he asked, “You weren’t able to find anything?”

She shook her head no and sighed softly. “The others are still searching, but I’m willing to bet they are long gone. I need to go and report this to Gilbert and Seteth. They’ll want to know about it. We’ll also need to start setting up defenses tomorrow. We aren’t in any state for an Imperial attack right now.” Byleth put a hand to her forehead and shook her head.

“Do you want me to come with you?”

Byleth quickly looked over at him, her eyes widened ever so slightly in surprise. “Umm… yeah. If you don’t mind?” He shook his head and Byleth gave him one last lingering look before walking in the direction of the offices on the second floor. 

Seteth wasn’t in his office or the Audience Chamber, so Byleth suggested they check out something called the Cardinal room. They turned left at the end of the hallway, and Felix raised an eyebrow as they walked down another hallway and entered a large meeting room. A table with many chairs took up most of the room’s capacity, and he wondered what it had been used for. “I didn’t even know this was here…”

Seteth and Gilbert were standing at the head of the table, looking over some sort of parchment when they walked in. Both heads raised at the sound of their footsteps, and they both stood at attention when they noticed it was Byleth. Seteth was the first to speak up. “Is something wrong?”

Byleth nodded as she folded her hands behind her back. “We may have had a spy sighting, but I’m not positive.”

Gilbert put a hand to his chin. “It’s not impossible. We have given a proper burial to the Imperial soldiers killed in the monastery. The ones who were sent to investigate the thieves. Already, rumors spread that they were utterly annihilated.”

A slight frown formed on Byleth’s face as she said, “The villager who found me mentioned it.”

Gilbert nodded with a weary sigh. “So regardless of whether there are spies observing us, the Imperial army will know of our location soon enough.” He shook his head and muttered, “Your Highness… Dimitri… How could you be so reckless?”

Byleth shook her head slowly and Felix could see the wheels in her head turning. She was most likely thinking of all of the things she felt she needed to be doing. “I’ll warn Dimitri to be on the lookout. He’ll be a high priority target once Edelgard knows he’s alive.” 

Byleth quickly turned to leave, but she stopped when Seteth called, “You will be as well, Byleth. You saw the state of your room. You’re supposed death was a victory for Edelgard. When she learns you are, in fact, alive…”

Byleth said, “I can take care of myself,” just as Felix said, “I’ll stay with her.” 

She turned to glare at him, but he glared right back in defiance and said, “Someone has to watch out for you, because goddess knows you don’t do it yourself.”

Byleth groaned and put a hand to her forehead. He almost missed her muttered, “Five years and you still want to play keeper.”

Seteth hummed with a hand to his chin. “Actually, that is a good idea. It’s either the former students, or I create a guard made up of knights to follow you like Rhea once had.”

“That is NOT happening,” Byleth sternly said to the advisor, who seemed unperturbed by her defiance.

“Then one of the students should stay with you at all times. Gilbert or myself would suffice, as well.” Seteth nodded and reached over to grab a rolled-up parchment. “We will further discuss defenses tomorrow. We do not know when an attack will come, so you should get some rest while you can.”

Byleth nodded brusquely and walked out of the room as he trailed after her. Once they were far enough away, she grumbled, “Thanks for that.”

“Seteth is right, Byleth. You’re the one who brought up the boar, well the same goes for you now. With the power you wield, known and unknown to others, you’re a major player in this war. Edelgard will want you taken out as soon as possible.”

Byleth murmured, “Or Hubert.”

Felix clenched his fists and nodded. “Exactly.”

“Do you think Bernadetta really saw someone?” Byleth glanced over at him as they walked down the stairs. 

“Yes. She’s got a sharp eye and she was really shaken up. Either way, I think it’s best we’re vigilant, just in case.”

Byleth nodded firmly, but didn’t say anything else as they walked across the bridge. He glanced over at her and noticed the tight set of her shoulders and the furrow in her brow. He wondered whether the stress was stemming from the possible intruder, or the thought of seeing the boar again. He could venture a guess that it might be both. 

Felix wasn’t feeling much better. He hadn’t spent any real time around the boar yet. However, Sylvain was outwardly concerned about his hostility toward Byleth, so that told him all he needed to know.

They reached the large double doors and Byleth stopped to turn to him. “He’s… probably not going to take this well. Please just… try not to make it worse.” 

He rolled his eyes, but when she continued to give him her teacher glare, he reluctantly nodded his head in agreement. She pulled open the door and he followed her inside. He tried not to gape at the fact that half of the cathedral ceiling was missing. There was a large pile of rubble in the center, and the boar was lurking in front of it. He stood with his back facing them, and he didn’t turn as they walked toward him. Felix couldn’t help thinking that it really didn’t bode well if there was a possibility of assassins.

When they were about twenty feet away, Byleth motioned for him to stop. He scowled and crossed his arms, but did as she asked, watching her closely as she slowly walked toward the boar. “Dimitri?” The boar did nothing, he just continued to stare at the pile of rubble. “We may have spotted a spy. We’re concerned that Edelgard will—”

The boar cut her off, growling, “Do not speak that name.”

Byleth took a steadying breath with her hands clenched at her sides. Her profile showed the familiar neutrality mask that she always seemed to use when she was upset. “Okay, but we’re concerned she’ll send people after you if she finds out you are here.”

The boar mumbled, “I’d like to see her try.”

Byleth stepped closer, and Felix tensed further. She calmly said, “She will try, Dimitri. Word has spread that the battalion you killed were slaughtered. She’ll send more troops to try and wipe us out any day now.”

The boar’s cruel laugh rang through the air, making the hair on his arms stand on end. “More Imperial dogs for the slaughter, then.”

“Dimitri—”

The boar growled, “I thought I told you not to disturb me.”

Byleth sighed and turned back toward Felix, but then paused and turned back to the boar prince. “We are setting up a place for Dedue in the graveyard. We’re going to do a little service once we have his flowers planted. Would you like me to come and get you before we start?”

“Do not disturb me.”

“Dimitri—”

The boar turned toward her and bellowed, “LEAVE!” When his eye landed on Felix, his angry features widened with surprise, but it only lasted a moment before they were again schooled back into a scowl. “Unless are you are preparing to move out, do not come back.”

Byleth shook her head and evenly said, “That would be reckless, Dimitri. We don’t have the soldiers or the supplies for that. We have to prepare first, and you know it.”

The boar shook his head and sneered, “We have no time to leisurely set up camp. If I must, I will go myself.”

Felix scoffed and the boar whipped his head around to face him with his good eye. “You wouldn’t make it past the Bridge of Myrddin, boar prince, and you know it. You came here because you know we are your only chance of getting your hands on her. If you thought otherwise, you would have gone to Enbarr years ago.”

“Do not question my resolve!” The boar stepped toward him with his lance in hand, and Felix put a hand on the hilt of his sword, but Byleth stepped between them with her hands raised. 

“Enough! We’re leaving. Just… please be careful. I don’t want you getting hurt.” The boar huffed and turned back to the rubble as she walked toward Felix. She grabbed his arm and walked toward the doors. “I thought I asked you not to make it worse.”

Felix rolled his eyes. “Tsk. He was threatening you with his own self-hatred. He’s not going anywhere, and he knows it.”

Byleth sighed wearily as they reached the bridge. He silently watched as she walked over to the railing and leaned against it. His fought the urge to grab her as she leaned over further and looked down into the cavern below them. The wind rustled some of the hair that had begun to spill from her braid while she was sparring, and his fingers itched to tuck them back in their place. 

After several moments of silence, silence that he felt was awkward but Byleth seemed fine with, Byleth turned back toward him. The sun was beginning to set behind her, and the pinks and oranges of the sunset made her look ethereal. The thought was stupid, but it made his heart beat faster all the same. 

Byleth leaned her back against the stone railing, with her elbows rested on the ledge, and met his gaze. “Does the fact that you signed up for guard duty mean you aren’t angry with me anymore?

“I told you I wasn’t angry with you.” He crossed his arms and looked toward the front of the cathedral. From out here, it seemed whole and untouched. It was only once you opened the doors that you saw how damaged it truly was. Felix found that ironic for a lot of reasons.

“Well you’ll have to excuse me for thinking otherwise when you hardly look at me if I don’t have a training sword in my hand.”

He scoffed and retorted, “I look at you.”

“Felix, you aren’t even looking at me right now.”

He turned back to face her, and fought off the heat rushing to his cheeks at the sight of the smirk on her lips. The warmth died down immediately when her smirk dropped, and was replaced by a small frown. “Is it because of what’s going on with you and Sylvain?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” _Did he tell her? Why would she ask that? What does she know?_ He forced himself to keep looking at her, but it was becoming harder and harder as she stepped closer to him.

“Do you think I’m blind? I see the fact that you barely look at each other. I see how tense you get, and I see how sad Sylvain gets when you are around each other. Is it so wrong to want to know what happened between my friends when I was gone?”

He nodded and crossed his arms. “Yes. You were gone, so it has nothing to do with you.” That wasn’t true. At all. In the slightest. But she didn’t need to know that.

She sighed sadly and turned away from him to stare out at the sunset instead. She was quiet for a long time, and he worried that maybe he had really upset her. As he mentally scrambled for something to say, she whispered, “Can you tell me what happened when Emery died? Sylvain said you were the one who told him.”

He swallowed through the lump already forming in his throat and stepped up to stand against the railing beside her. “I had to watch him fall out of the sky.” He could feel her gaze, but he kept watching the sun as it slowly made its way to the horizon. “Emery’s wings were burning, and she couldn’t keep altitude. I cut my way through until I found her, standing over Sylvain’s body.” 

He paused, taking a deep breath as the images flashed before him again. “She looked at me like she was begging me to save him. She was hurt, but she was taking out any Imperial soldiers that came close to Sylvain.” He heard Byleth sniffle, but he knew he couldn’t look over at her if he wanted to finish the story.

“I was able to get Sylvain on a horse, but a group of archers started shooting at us. Emery tried to take them out, but while she was distracted, a fighter with an axe…” He didn’t bother finishing the sentence. Instead he closed his eyes and whispered, “I still hear her roars sometimes. And I can still see the image of him falling from the sky when I close my eyes.”

After a moment of silence, Byleth whispered, “I’m sorry I wasn’t there to change it.”

He turned to face her, and his chest tightened as he took in the sight of tears streaming down her face. He couldn’t help wondering how anyone had ever called her the Ashen Demon. It seemed so impossible in this moment, with all of the pain and sorrow he could plainly see in her eyes. “You’ve had to watch things like that countless times.”

She nodded as she raised a hand to wipe the tears from her cheeks. “Something similar happened when we went to the Rhodos Coast. I still dream about his screams every once and a while.”

“How do you stand it?” She turned to him and looked up at him with those sorrowful green eyes. “How do you keep going when you’ve had to watch people you care about die over and over?” His tone held a hint of his desperation and sadness as the lump in his throat got bigger and bigger, making it feel harder to breathe. He took a steadying breath to try and force it away.

She shook her head and reached out to take his hand. “I remind myself that I get to change it. I remind myself that even if I have to have the memories, my friends are safe. Nothing is more important to me than that. Nothing.”

“We’re at war. You won’t be able to save everyone.” 

She shook her head firmly, and the sadness in her features shifted to a look of pure determination. With the colors of the sunset splashed across her features, she looked every bit as divine as Rhea and the others portrayed her to be. “I’m going to save everyone I can, and I’m going to end this war.” The fire in her eyes as she stared up at him was almost enough to make him believe in something for the first time since she fell. 

“You won’t do it alone. You have my sword.”

“I think it’s you that has my sword.” She reached a finger out and ran in across the worn pommel of the silver sword she had gifted him all those years ago. The gripping had been changed numerous times, and her Crest had worn slightly after five years of repairs, but it was still there. She whispered, “I can’t believe you still have this thing.”

“I take care of my weapons,” he gruffly replied, moving away from her as he did, “and it’s a finely made sword.”

He despised the knowing glint in her eye as the corner of her mouth twitched up in the barest hint of a smile. “I’m glad. I gave it to you so it could help keep you safe when I couldn’t.”

He rubbed his thumb across the pommel and looked out over horizon again. “I kept myself safe, through hard work and vigorous training.”

“Right. Of course.” Byleth sighed softly before adding, “I should probably go and check on Ashe. I promised to help him replant some of Dedue’s flowers so we could set up a place for him in the graveyard.” 

He responded with a small grunt of approval and nodded his head toward the other side of the bridge. They walked in silence, and he opened the door for her to walk out into the courtyard that lead to the classrooms.

Without warning, she whirled around to step in front of him and launched the Sword of the Creator toward the wall beside the door they had just walked through. Felix pulled his sword in the next breath as his eyes landed on a man with lavender-colored hair and eyes. He wore grey light armor with a long black cape, and Felix immediately knew he was a capable swordsman from the way he held himself.What was more impressive was the fact that his features were unfazed, even with the fact that the Sword of the Creator was lodged in a small crater in the wall right beside his head. 

Byleth growled, “That was a warning. You have two seconds to tell me who you are and what you want.” Her features had shifted to the same dangerous mask she wore in battle and every muscle was tensed as she glared at the man.

“Well aren’t you adorable?” The man cooed, as he shifted to lean his lithe form against the wall. “I’m sure it’s an honor to be threatened by the one and only Byleth Eisner, formerly known as the Ashen Demon, and now the vessel for the goddess herself. However, you’ll find it takes a lot longer than two seconds to get to know me.”

Irritation flared in Felix’s gut as he charged forward to point his sword at the man’s throat. “Just answer the damn question, or I’ll cut you down where you stand.” 

The man was still unfazed. He glanced over Felix’s shoulder and evenly said, “Would you call off your guard dog? This is hardly the way to get to know one another, and I promise I’m worth getting to know.” A smirk twisted his lips as he looked Byleth over with lecherous eyes. Felix dug the point of his sword into the man’s skin just the barest amount, enough to draw a drop of blood.

“Tell me what you want,” Byleth replied, as the Sword of the Creator transformed back into its sword form with a grating click, “and I’ll consider it.”

The man smirked and said, “I wanted to see for myself whether you were all the rumors made you out to be. I must say, I’m not entirely convinced.” Felix’s sword dug into the man’s skin a little more, and it earned him a sharp glare before the lilac eyes shifted back to Byleth. 

“And why would you want to know that?” Felix couldn’t see Byleth, but he could hear the sharpening of her tone. She was obviously as unamused as he was.

“Because I’m deciding whether I’ll help you end this war or not.” His tone was light as he waved a hand through the air in an easy manner before flipping a piece of hair over his shoulder.

There was a moment of silence before Byleth called, “Let him go, Felix.”

Felix growled, “You’re kidding, right?! Who knows who this man is or what he wants?! He’s done nothing but dance around your questions!”

“You heard the pretty lady,” The man said with a smug smile, as he raised a hand to move Felix’s sword away from his throat. “Now why don’t you run along so we can have a real conversation?”

“Like hell I’m leaving her here with you.” He angrily sheathed his sword with an audible click as he moved to stand in front of Byleth.

She called, “What is your name and who do you work for?”

“You may call me Yuri,” his smile was sharp as he gave a mocking bow, “and I work for no one. However, your predecessor and I had an… understanding. I’m considering extending a similar deal to you.”

“I’m not Rhea,” Byleth growled, as she stepped around Felix. “Give me one reason I shouldn’t just cut you down right now.”

“Because you and I are alike, friend. We both want this war over, and we both have people we want to protect.” Felix watched the man, Yuri, stare at Byleth for a while. From where he was standing, he couldn’t see Byleth’s face. After a few moments the tension in Byleth’s shoulders relaxed ever so slightly, and an irritating trickle of fear wormed its way into Felix’s chest.

“Fine, I’ll give you a chance to convince me. However, one wrong move and I end you.”

Yuri’s smirk was dangerous and his eyes were sharp as steel as he replied, “Likewise.”

“Now how exactly do you think you’ll help me end this war?” Byleth planted a hand on her hip and shifted her weight to one side, an easy posture even though Felix was on edge.

“Uh-uh-uh,” Yuri tsked and waved a finger in the air, “I’m not showing you all my cards until I know you can hold up your end of the deal.”

“What exactly is my end of the deal?”

“How about you and me have ourselves a little date, huh? We can use the time to get to know each other,” Yuri stepped closer to Byleth, and Felix stepped up behind her with his fiercest glare, “away from… prying eyes. Then we can discuss our partnership further, hm?”

“You want to take me on a date?” Byleth tone was disbelieving as she tilted her head to the side.

Yuri threw his head back as he laughed. “Hesitant, are we? You should know, nobles have nearly killed one another fighting for my affections. Perhaps you won’t get all you want out of me, heh, but I’ll promise you a fun time regardless.”

Byleth tilted her head to her fist and said, “Do you know your smile doesn’t reach your eyes?”

Amusement shone in Yuri’s eyes as he chuckled and said, “That only happens when I’m getting a little greedy. So, do we have a deal?”

Felix growled, “Like hell you do.” 

Byleth turned to cut him a sharp glare before turning back to face Yuri. “Where and when is this supposed date of ours?”

Felix immediately shouted, “Byleth, don’t be stupid—”

Yuri continued as if he couldn’t hear Felix’s objections. “Meet me in front of your old quarters at midnight. Come alone.” He glanced up pointedly at Felix and added, “Three is a crowd after all.”

There was an edge of playfulness in Byleth’s tone that Felix REALLY didn’t like as she said, “Why would I meet with you without backup? Who says I trust you?”

Yuri winked and said, “Trust is a choice. No harm will come to you if you’re all your cracked up to be. You can even bring your fancy Relic if you’d like, I don’t mind.” He shrugged easily and stepped back. “I’ll see you tonight, friend. Don’t stand me up.” He walked around them, and as he walked into the distance, Felix noticed men spilling from various hiding spots around them. They were all armed to the teeth, and didn’t even glance at him and Byleth before following after the mysterious man.

Felix whirled back to Byleth and growled, “Don’t be a fool. You aren’t really going to go out with him?!”

She shrugged and retorted, “What if he can really help us end the war?”

Felix scoffed and crossed his arms. “If you were Sylvain, I’d be telling you not to think with your dick. Frankly I’m disappointed you’re even considering this.” 

Her gaze sharpened to a glare as she raised her chin in defiance. “We need every advantage we can get in this war, Felix. I shouldn’t have to remind you that all I have right now are some of my former students and what remains of the Knights of Seiros. That’s hardly enough to put an end to Edelgard’s conquest!”

“Then we’ll get you more troops. Hell, I’ll even go and speak with the old man if you want me to. Just don’t be stupid!”

Byleth’s defiance softened and she stepped closer to Felix as she whispered, “If it gets dicey, I’ll undo it. I don’t trust him, but I don’t think he’s working for Edelgard. He says he wants to end the war, let’s see what he has to offer.” She put a hand on his arm and softly said, “You have to trust me.”

He ripped his arm away and growled, “The last time I did that, you fell off a fucking cliff and disappeared for five years.” He turned on his heel and stomped off in the direction of his room as Byleth trailed behind him, calling out his name.

He ignored her, and she continued to pursue him until they reached the gate that led to the dining hall. Felix let out an audible groan as Sylvain walked out and looked between them. “Fe? By? What’s going on? Felix is even more scowl-y than usual.”

Felix’s tone was annoyed as he replied, “Byleth is a fool and has agreed to go on a date with a man who is probably an Imperial assassin who’s going to try and kill her.”

Sylvain’s eyebrows shot up as he turned to Byleth, and Byleth snorted as she rolled her eyes. “I don’t think it’s really a date. I’ve spent enough time around Sylvain to know when someone is flirting because they want something.” 

The flash of hurt that rippled across Sylvain’s face was quickly staunched before he stepped forward to stand closer to Byleth. “Still… you shouldn’t be taking any unnecessary risks.”

“He had some sort of deal with Rhea,” the defiance was back in Byleth’s expression and tone as she crossed her arms in front of her chest, “and he says he can help us end this war. What if he can—"

Felix interjected, “Or he’s an Imperial spy.” 

“I really don’t think he is. He didn’t even touch his weapon, and he could have easily tried to overpower us with all the men he had waiting. Why would he put off attacking me until tonight if he could have done it just now?”

Sylvain held up a hand and said, “Wait… how the hell did he get into the monastery without getting spotted?”

Byleth tilted her head to her fist and hummed thoughtfully. “He matches the description of the man Bernadetta spotted earlier. He’s getting in and out somehow.”

Sylvain thought it over and said, “I don’t know how he’s getting in and out. All I know is that we should go with you, just in case. We should also tell Seteth and Gilbert what is going on.”

“He said I have to come alone, and I’d rather not drag them into it if I can help it. Seteth will put a stop to it, and I want to see what sort of partnership Yuri is going to offer.”

Sylvain chuckled somewhat nervously and rubbed the back of his neck. “Wow, this guy must really be something.” 

Byleth shrugged and replied, “If Rhea to have some sort of deal with him, maybe he really can do something to help us end this war.”

“Or he can sell you off to the Empire, or kill you.” Felix scoffed derisively and muttered, “You’re an overconfident fool.”

She put her fists on her hips and glared at him. “I’m not an overconfident fool!”

He rolled his eyes and sarcastically said, “I’ll just fight my way out or turn back time or whatever. Nothing’s going to happen to me!”

She paused with a finger in the air like she was going to retort, but she then chuckled half-heartedly and said, “Well, I did survive a fall of a cliff. If I can do that, I can certainly survive one date.”

“Not funny. Not even a little bit.” Sylvain lifted a hand to his forehead and shook his head slowly. “I’m with Felix on this one, By. This seems like a terrible idea.”

“I’m doing it. If there’s even a chance that he can help, I’m taking it.” She pulled the tie out of her braid and ran her fingers through her hair before handing the tie to Felix. “Now, I need to go and find Ashe, so if you’ll excuse me.”

They both watched her walk to the stairs and once she was far enough away to be unable to hear them, Sylvain turned to him and said, “So, we’re following her right?” 

Felix scoffed and muttered, “Yes, we’re following her. She’s in over her head.”

Sylvain was quiet for a moment before saying, “Are you sure this isn’t just… ya know… a date?”

“What? Are you worried about your chances?” His tone was acidic as he turned his glare on Sylvain.

“No no no!” Sylvain raised his hands in surrender as he violently shook his head. “I’m just trying to be there for Byleth, Fe. I…” He stopped, and Felix narrowed his eyes further as Sylvain seemed to search for the correct words. He softly added, “I miss you.”

His voice was too soft. Too tender. Pain twisted somewhere in Felix’s stomach as he gritted his teeth and turned to the side. “The meeting is at midnight. I’m going to the training grounds until then.” 

He started walking away, desperate to be anywhere but there with Sylvain, when the redhead called, “Come on, Fe! You should at least eat first.” His stomach growled audibly, betraying him. Sylvain chuckled softly and said, “If you come with me, I’ll give you some of my spicy dried meat I brought?”

“Do you really think I want to be around you right now?” He turned back to Sylvain, who had an expression of muted hurt, like he was trying and failing to hide it. 

“Please, Felix.” Sylvain moved forward and grabbed his hand, the place where their skin met seemed to burn as Felix fought to swallow through a growing lump in his throat. “I don’t want this.”

“Don’t want what?” He spat back as he ripped his hand away, but Sylvain was quick to grab his shoulders and hold him in place. _Damn him. Damn him for being stronger than I am._

“I know I fucked up. I know you can’t trust me, and I know I don’t deserve you—” 

“What?” He snapped as he looked up into sad honey-colored eyes. “What the hell are you talking about?”

“I ruined this, and I’m sorry,” Sylvain’s tone was sorrowful and the self-deprecating was making Felix’s skin crawl. “But I miss you so damn much and I don’t know what to do to make this right.”

Voices sounded out behind the wall, and Felix vaguely recognized the voices of Caspar and Linhardt as he pulled Sylvain over and pressed him up against the wall where it jutted out just enough to shield them from view. Sylvain looked down at him curiously, and Felix’s cheeks heated when he realized how closely he had pressed himself up against Sylvain in an effort to hide them from Caspar and Linhardt. 

He took a step back, but he wasn’t fast enough. “Uh, hey guys!” Caspar’s voice called and Felix gritted his teeth as he turned his head to look at the broadly grinning brawler. Of course, he’d be heading to the training grounds. Felix’s cheeks burned as he mentally kicked himself for being an absolute fool. “I was gonna ask if you wanted to train with me, but I can see you two are busy.”

“We’re not busy.” Felix quickly said as he took another step back for good measure. Sylvain’s hand reached out, but he batted it away without looking up at the redhead. “I’m coming with you.”

Sylvain whispered, “Wait… Fe…”

But he held up a hand and said, “Just before midnight.”

Sylvain frowned, but nodded in agreement before Felix turned and stalked in the direction of the training hall. “How long has that been going on?” Caspar clapped him on the back and he immediately shrugged it off with a growl for good measure.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Uh huh. Sure.” Caspar cracked his knuckles and added, “Brawling or weights?”

He replied, “Brawling.” 

Felix wouldn’t mind punching something right now.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys! Whew... that was a long week. Break wasn't long enough, but I wanted to post a chapter anyway because I'm excited about this one.
> 
> The next couple chapters are proving to be a real pain in the ass, so updates will be a bit slower than normal. You guys are the greatest for being so patient and understanding. Thanks!
> 
> We'll be getting lots of action REAL SOON.


	8. Mess Around

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Byleth joins her former students at a small memorial service for Dedue before going on her "date" with Yuri. The date isn't really what she expected.

~Byleth~

She and Ashe were quickly able to tag team the work in the greenhouse. It was soothing to go through the motions of pruning and weeding through the Duscur blooms, and Ashe easily filled the silence with stories of the last five years. 

“We made it to an inn just outside the Itha Plains to meet up with Felix and Bernadetta. They were coming with us, just in case a fight broke out or something. Sylvain wanted to be discreet, but he also wanted to be prepared just in case. Anyway, you should have seen Felix! His hair was so short, shorter than mine. It was so bizarre.”

That quickly gained her full attention as she turned to look at the silver-haired archer. “He what?”

“I know! I didn’t even realize it was him for a moment.”

“I can’t even picture it. Felix has always had long hair.” Her tone was wistful as she tried to conjure an image of Felix with short hair. She failed miserably, but the thought made her frown. She had always loved Felix’s hair. It was part of what made him so beautiful, ever since they were younger.

Ashe frowned and looked down at his hands in the soil. “Sylvain made a comment about how you would have hated it. Felix didn’t take it well.” He paused for a moment before raising his head to look at her again. “We all missed you quite a bit. It’s so good to have you back.” He chuckled sheepishly and muttered, “Sorry… I keep saying that over and over.”

She tried her best to smile, but it felt strained as she examined Ashe’s matured features. His silver hair was no longer messy, it was straight and hung in front of his eyes as he resumed his position over the flowers. His shoulders were broader, and more muscular from all of the bow work he had obviously done over the last few years. His light green eyes peered up at her as he continued telling the story of how they had traveled to get Annette, and how Sylvain had invited her to move in with them in Gautier. 

She was happy that they had looked out for one another, and she knew she had specifically asked Sylvain and Felix to try and watch out for the others if something happened to her, but there was always pressure in her chest that left her feeling heavy. Maybe it was the guilt, or maybe it was sadness over having missed out on all of these things. She had missed all of them growing up, and it made it feel like she had been left behind. She was so used to being the older one, with more life experience, but her students had been fighting a war and defending their territories for the last five years. What did she really have to offer them now? 

They finally finished carefully digging up the roots of some of the flowers, and Ashe grabbed a pot for them so they could transport them to the graveyard. When they got there, she realized that there wasn’t much room for an additional plot. She nodded her head before walking over to her parents’ grave.

“Why don’t we plant them over here. We can put a stone near the foot of this one.” 

Ashe walked over and knelt down to start digging, but stalled as he looked at the headstone. “This is…” he trailed off and looked up at her with wide eyes.

“My parents.” She cleared her throat as her eyes began to burn, before hurriedly turning to resume her work.

“I didn’t know your mother was buried here as well,” he hesitantly said, as he resumed working beside her to dig up some of the grass, “Who was she?”

“Rhea said she was a nun here at the monastery, but other than that I’m not really sure. She died giving birth to me, and my father was always reluctant to talk about her.”

“Ah,” Ashe’s voice was soft as he nodded his head and looked up at her with sorrowful eyes, “that must have been hard.”

“You know, it’s been five years today since he died. Though it doesn’t feel like it to me.” She placed the flowers carefully and covered the roots before patting the soil gently. She sat back on her heels and looked at her parents’ stone off to her left. _Resting in the warm embrace of cherished memories…_

“I remember that day.” Ashe shook his head slowly and joined her in looking at the headstone. “Sir Jeralt always seemed larger than life. After all of the stories that I had heard, it seemed impossible like something like that could happen. And…” He trailed off and she looked over to see tears in the corners of his eyes, “It was hard to see you like that. We all felt like we had failed you.”

She placed a dirty hand on top of his. “There was nothing that could have saved him.” Tears blurred her vision and she fought to keep her voice steady as she continued, “I’m sorry that you guys had to see that, and that I shut you all out. I should have been there for you, and I wasn’t.”

“No, Professor,” Ashe shook his head firmly as a frown marred his features, “you always felt like you had to shoulder everything for us. We just wanted to be there for you. You are like family! I told my brother and sister all about you, they’ll be ecstatic when they hear you’re alive.”

She smiled softly at that and nodded. “I can’t wait to meet them.” She slowly stood and wiped her hands together to try and clear some of the dirt. “Shall we go and gather the others?” Ashe nodded and lead the way.

  
It was a small gathering, consisting of mainly her Blue Lions, though Bernadetta had showed up as well. Apparently, they had baked together a few times, once the gentle giant had convinced Bernadetta that he wasn’t going to kill her. She chuckled softly at the image of a tiny Bernadetta working beside her stoic lion, before wincing at the pain the image stoked within her. 

The most intriguing person there was an ashen-faced Ingrid. She approached the stiff pegasus knight, who shook her head softly and said, “I never should have treated him the way I did, Professor. He didn’t deserve it. I was so blinded by my anger over Glenn and His Majesty’s death that I…” she trailed off as she clasped her hands behind her back. “There’s no excuse. He deserved better, especially after all he did for His Highness. All I can do now is try my best to protect His Highness in Dedue’s stead.” 

She glanced around at the small gathering before whispering, “Where is His Highness?”

“I tried to get him to come,” Ingrid frowned and looked down at the ground, “he’s been alone so long, I think it’s hard for him to be around others. We’ll have to give him time.”

“I think I’ll go and take him some food. I haven’t seen him in the dining hall, so he must be hungry.” Ingrid glanced once more at the flowers, crossed her arm over her chest and bowed before walking away.

By the light of the lanterns they had brought with them, Mercedes said a beautiful departure prayer, followed by each of the Lions sharing a memory they had of Dedue. By the end, sniffles could be heard through the entire group. They all shared hugs and comforting words before they slowly began to trickle out.

“Are you coming, Professor?” Mercedes moved to stand at her side as she stared down at the flowers.

“I think I’ll stay here a while longer.” Mercedes smiled softly and handed her the lantern she was holding before walking away. 

She knelt down before the flowers and softly said, “I wish you were here, lion cub. I’m worried about Dimitri, and I don’t know if I can do anything to help him.” She sighed heavily and sat back on her heels as she placed the lantern down beside her. “I promise I’ll do everything I can to protect him. I swear I won’t give up on him.”

She glanced over at her parents’ stone before whispering, “Sothis could never tell me whether there was a heaven or not, but I hope there is, and I hope you get to be with your family again. If you are, tell your sister I say “hello”. I’m sure she’ll be watching out for you again.” She paused before adding a soft, “I’m sorry for failing you.” 

She stood and walked a few short steps before kneeling down before her parents’ headstone. She dragged her finger over the etchings of their names and whispered, “Sorry I’ve been gone so long. Apparently I overslept.” 

She bowed her head as her vision blurred. “I miss you. I wish you were here right now, father. You always knew what to do… and right now? Right now, I have no clue what I’m doing. Everyone is looking to me like I’m some sort of blessing, but I’m just me. I’m just… the Ashen Demon. I’m just Byleth. How am I supposed to lead all of these people? How am I supposed to end this war?”

She reached into her shorts and pulled out the leather pouch with her mother’s ring. Miraculously, the water hadn’t damaged it too much, though it could use a good polish. “I remember when you showed me this ring. I remember when you told me you wanted me to give it to the one I love as much as you loved mother.” 

She twirled the ring between her fingers and watched how the light of the lantern bounced off of the colored stones. “I wish you would have told me what love felt like. Sylvain asked me if I loved anyone, and I’m not sure I would know what it felt like if I did. Maybe I can’t love anyone. Well… I love my students, I know that… But maybe after all of those years of not feeling anything, it’s impossible for me to be _in love_ with someone.”

She slipped the ring onto her finger and let out a wet sigh when it fit perfectly. “I wish I knew more about you. I wish I knew more about both of you.”

The bells chimed the eleventh hour and she slowly stood from her crouch and fiddled with the ring on her finger. “I have to go. I have a date to prepare for. I’ll bring you guys flowers once they begin growing in the greenhouse again.”

She ran up to the third floor and couldn’t help the unease she felt in the archbishop’s quarters as she freshened up in the washroom. She didn’t think it was really a date, but she had been training for several hours so it couldn’t hurt to get cleaned up. 

She stood outside her old quarters and waited for Yuri with a hand on her sword. She was watching the pathway that lead to the training hall when she heard a sultry voice say, “You showed. Good.” She whirled around and startled when he was standing right behind her. 

“It’s not easy to sneak up on me,” she firmly said, hand still on the hilt of the Sword of the Creator that rested on her hip, “How are you getting in and out of the monastery?”

She could just make out his smirk by the light of the moon. “I’m not giving away my secrets that easily.” He shook his head and clicked his tongue. “You didn’t come alone like I asked.” She raised an eyebrow and was about to ask what he was talking about when he grabbed her waist and whispered in her ear, “Can’t have them following us, now can we?”

She heard Felix scream her name as her vision filled with a blinding white light. Her head swam as she opened her eyes again, but she quickly got her bearings about her enough to slam Yuri up against the wall with her dagger at his throat. “Where the hell did you take me?”

He chuckled, completely unperturbed by the steel at his throat. He cooed, “Are you always this rough? Not that I’m objecting, I’m just curious.”

“Enough!” She poked the dagger firmer against his skin as his grin became wicked. “Where did you take me?”

He raised his arms to wave them toward their surroundings. “See for yourself.”

She glanced around and realized they were in some sort of man-made tunnel. It vaguely reminded her of the tunnel they had found when searching for Flayn a couple months—or rather years—ago. It was a gradual downward slope and there were torches lining the dusty corridor.

Yuri lightly circled his hand around the wrist that held her dagger, and she allowed him to slowly pull it away from his throat. “I have something to show you, and I didn’t want anyone else stumbling across this place without having spoken to you first.” 

She glared at him for a moment before she grumbled, “This better be worth it. I’m going to have a majorly overprotective swordsman up my ass after this.”

That earned her a laugh, and she reluctantly followed him as he strutted down the dimly lit corridor. That was really the only way to describe the way Yuri walked. His every movement was graceful and soundless, and she couldn’t help admiring his beautiful features every time she glanced over at him. 

“See something you like?” He winked over at her with a sly grin.

“You’re very beautiful, though I think you know that,” she stated matter-of-factly. 

His eyes widened ever so slightly before a melodic chuckle echoed through the stone passageway. “I already like you more than I liked Rhea. I might even enjoy this partnership of ours…”

After a few moments they came across a man in light armor with an axe. He immediately straightened at the sight of them and said, “Boss! Is that—”

Yuri cut him off by saying, “Is everyone already in the arena?” 

“Yes, sir!” He saluted and Yuri nodded before giving an easy wave.

They walked down a set of stairs and she glanced around at what looked like a marketplace of some sort. Stalls similar to the ones at the monastery lined the walls, but the area was completely deserted. She followed Yuri as he strode through the center of the makeshift market, until they reached a bridge. When they reached the end of the bridge, they stopped in front of a set of huge double doors, and Yuri turned to wink at her before pulling them open.

She fought to keep her face neutral as they walked into an arena similar to, but much larger than, the training grounds. Stone statues similar to the statues of the Saints in the cathedral were scattered throughout the room, and those statues were surrounded by fighters of all shapes and sizes. And in the center of the room, on a raised platform, stood three distinct figures.  
There was a bear of a man, with a huge muscled build and long dark hair, between two females. One of the women had beautiful pinkish red hair pulled to the side, and eyes that matched. She looked almost bored as she stared off into the distance with her hands crossed in front of herself. On the other side of the bear man was a blonde woman who was watching she and Yuri walk toward them with a grin on her face.

The blonde shouted, “Of course, you have finally decided to bring her here. I just knew you would come to see sense eventually, Yuri.” Her voice was haughty, and it brought Ferdinand and Lorenz to mind as she watched the blonde throw her head back in what sounded like an exaggerated laugh.

“That’s it?” The red head looked her over for a brief moment before shrugging. “I heard she was ridiculously beautiful. I don’t see it.”

Byleth raised an eyebrow, but didn’t say anything before the man beside the woman said, in a booming voice, “Yeah. She looks real young, Boss, younger than me. I thought she was supposed to be a professor five years ago?”

“I was.” All eyes fell on her and she tried not to fidget as they all studied her.

“Alright alright, that’s enough gawking. Let’s get down to business, shall we?” Yuri made a grand turn with his arms raised and projected, loud enough for the crowd to hear, “Welcome to the underground city of Abyss!”

“Abyss?” She raised an eyebrow at Yuri, who chuckled and nodded.

He added, “It’s the archbishop’s best kept secret.”

“I highly doubt that.” Byleth crossed her arms, and Yuri watched her with an amused expression.

“Duly noted. We are the people that have been shunned from the surface. We dwell beneath Garreg Mach, hiding in the shadows. The church quietly tolerates us. They think they need a place like this in order to survive.”

Byleth took the time to look around and assessed the various fighters that stood around them. “I didn’t know you were here.”

Yuri nodded and waved a hand easily through the air. “And for good reason. The deal is simple. Abyssians never get involved with the surface, and the surface never gets involved with us.”

“Until this very moment!” The blonde laughed exuberantly again and Yuri sighed. “You have surely come to lend us your aid?”

Byleth opened her mouth to ask what the blonde was talking about, but Yuri lifted a hand and said, “We don’t know anything for sure, Constance. I’m still not convinced.”

“Are we going with my idea, then?” The bear of a man bumped his fists together before rolling his shoulders.

Yuri rolled his eyes and said, “Why not? She did come all the way down here.”

“Best way to get to know someone is a good tussle,” the bear man stepped toward her and she put a hand on the hilt of her sword “A fight's on the menu, and I’m ready to feast!”

Yuri leaned over and put a hand over the one on the hilt of her sword. “No need for that, now. Balthus here is just itching to have a good brawl. I’m interested to see whether you’re as versatile as everyone says.” She scowled as her sword belt fell from her hips, unbuckled by Yuri as he pulled it away with a smug grin. He raised a hand and she noticed that he had some sort of bracelet that began to glow as he was surrounded by light and warped about fifty feet away. Flashes of light also surrounded the two girls before they appeared at his side. 

She cursed under her breath as some of the fighters rushed toward her. She ducked under the first man’s punch before landing a kick to his side followed by an elbow to the throat. The man behind him tried to rush forward, but she grabbed his arm and whipped him in the direction of the oncoming assault.

Many of the fighters had circled her now. It seemed they weren’t coming at her all at once, but rather in waves. The bear of a man hadn’t taken another step, he just watched as she fought off group after group of semi-skilled fighters. Honestly it felt more like a bar brawl than a life-or-death match. It reminded her of her life as a mercenary. It would almost be invigorating, if she wasn’t annoyed by the fact that she didn’t know what in the hell was going on.

One of the men landed a heavy hit to the right side of her face before she could dodge, and she repaid it with a knee to the groin, closely followed by an elbow to the back. A hardy laugh echoed through the air as she whirled to face the next fighter, and quickly ducked beneath his swing. She blocked the next one with her forearm before punching him in the gut. He bent forward with a wheezed curse and she kneed him in the face for good measure. Now she was just pissed. Her face throbbed, and her body was starting to ache.

Someone tackled her from behind and they rolled on the ground a bit until she could gain the upper hand. She pinned him with her knees as she landed a few hits to his face, but she was quick to climb off when he yielded. She stood and moved in a circle, carefully watching the group of mildly beat up fighters that still surrounded her.

She spat some blood on the ground and raised her fists as she dropped into a fighting stance. “Who’s next?”

“I like you!” The circle of fighters parted so the bear of a man from earlier could walk into the makeshift fighting ring. “I thought you were too small to be a good fighter, but I can admit when I’m wrong. I should have trusted the amount of muscle you’ve got packed on you.” He laughed and pounded his fists together. “Question is… can you face the Mighty King of Grappling?”

She cocked her head to the side quizzically, before quickly jumping out of the way as he came charging toward her. The man was easily double her size, and she idly wondered if he might rival even Dimitri’s height and build. He grinned as he turned and charged again, but this time she met him in his charge. She ducked beneath his reach and quickly moved behind him before jumping onto his back. She put him in a chokehold as he tried to swipe at her. He landed a few good hits to her head and sides, but she didn’t loosen her grip. When he failed to get her off, he dropped onto his back and she coughed raggedly as she hit the ground. She held tight though, and wrapped her legs around his arms until he could no longer move them.

“Alright, I think he’s had enough.” Yuri reappeared beside them and she glared up at him before slowly unwinding her limbs from the man’s struggling form. 

The man she had just taken down hollered, “Yuri! I think I’m in love! Can we keep her?” 

Once he had rolled off of her, she slowly stood and walked to stand in front of Yuri. “Was that really necessary?”

Yuri smiled wickedly and motioned toward the bear man. “Balthus has been itching for a fight, and the folks down here have been begging for some quality entertainment. I was watching you train earlier, so I knew you could handle it.”

“You were watching us?”

“Of course, I was. Nothing happens in this monastery without me knowing.” He waved his hand and the fighters around them quickly shuffled away, leaving only Yuri, Balthus, Constance, and the red-haired girl that she hadn’t gotten a name for yet.

Yuri pointed to the man she just fought and said, “In case you haven’t picked it up yet, this is Balthus. The blonde is—”

“The glorious Constance von Nuvelle!” The blonde laughed again, and Byleth raised her eyebrow.

“And you can call me Hapi.” The red-head moved to stand beside Constance with an apathetic look on her face.

Yuri stepped toward her and lifted the hand that held the… now that she got a better look it really looked like an elaborate bracelet which extended up his hand and had rings around his slender fingers. A Crest Stone sat directly on the back of his hand, and it glowed like a Relic as healing magic rushed through her, taking away some of the ache from the brawl.

“Is that a Relic?”

“Yup. And here’s yours.” Yuri handed her the Sword of the Creator, with only slight difficulty due to the weight of the thing, and she moved to strap it back on her waist.

“So, what am I doing here exactly?”

“You have not told her the cause of her visit, Yuri?!” Constance screamed indignantly as she stomped her foot on the ground.

Hapi cocked her head to look at Yuri. “Wow, Yuri-bird. You just threw her straight into a brawl with zero explanation?”

“That’s the fun part, right Boss?” Balthus winked at her, and she resisted the urge to roll her eyes before setting her sights back on Yuri.

“Here’s the situation,” Yuri turned to face her completely and gracefully put a hand beneath his chin. “Rhea and I had an agreement. My little birds feed me information from all over Fodlan, and I pass her anything that’s relevant. In return, she made sure the citizens of Abyss were protected and had the supplies they needed.”

His gaze darkened and his lips curled into a sneer as he said, “However, when you and your lot failed to defend the monastery, the people of Abyss were sitting ducks. Masked mages stormed in and took some of my people. Men, women, and children. We fought them off as best we could, but they had powerful silencing magic for my mages, and there were too many of them.”

Balthus angrily interjected, “Now those same masked bastards come down here every once and a while and try to take people.”

“It is not only fighters that dwell amongst the shadows,” Constance added, with a forlorn expression, “there are also the infirm, the elderly, and others who cannot fend for themselves. It rests upon us to protect those who cannot protect themselves… and to safeguard our home.”

“I’m really sorry.” Byleth frowned and looked amongst the four. “If I had known you were here, I would have tried to find a way to evacuate you.”

“The people here don’t exactly have any other place to go,” Hapi grumbled, “so that wouldn’t have done much good.”

“Well,” Byleth paused and turned back to Yuri, “how can I help?”

“That’s it?” He raised a lavender eyebrow and looked at her quizzically. “I warp you down here, make you fight, and without having anything in it for you, you’re willing to help?”

“I would have helped sooner if I wasn’t sleeping.” She shrugged and sighed heavily as she rolled her neck. “You are trying to protect your people, I get that.”

Yuri chuckled softly and said, “Well there you go being cute again.”

She tried not to flush under his pointed gaze. “I’m going to do what I think is right. I don’t see how that’s cute.”

Constance laughed and flipped some hair over her shoulder. “I knew this would be my best idea yet!”

“Yeah yeah, Coco. Settle down.” Hapi patted her arm and rolled her eyes endearingly.

Yuri cleared his throat and drew their attention back to him. “Due to the actions of your… feral prince…” Yuri grimaced and gave her a pointed look, “I’ve had my people stuck down here for almost six moons. We haven’t had any visits from the masked mages, but we are now running low on supplies. I’ve been slowly playing my cards, trying to keep everything afloat, and then a pretty little ace landed in my lap.”

Byleth raised an eyebrow and he chuckled. “You. You’re my ace. My birds tell me there’s an Imperial vanguard heading this way. Rumors of what happened to the prior groups of soldiers have reached the Emperor’s ears, and she’s sent one of her top generals to handle it. Randolph Bergliez heads the group of soldiers, and they should be knocking at your door in approximately ten days.”

“Ten days?” She kept her face impassive as her mind swirled with all of the things they would need to do in preparation.

“I have a little gift for you, to help cement our little partnership.” Yuri grinned and it was all teeth as he walked closer to her. “Some of my men will be sent down to the now cleared out town at the entrance of the monastery. I’ve recently come by some fluid that when lit just right…” he made fists and opened them in front of her dramatically, “boom.”

“You’re thinking we lure them into the town, blow the fuse, and cut down their numbers.” She tilted her head to her fist as she thought over the possibility. “If we can execute it correctly, it’d help us even the playing field.”

Yuri nodded, with his face a mask of amusement. “Exactly.”

“It’ll take some convincing. I can only imagine how Seteth and the knights will feel about it,” she mused aloud as she stared into Yuri’s eyes, “But I don’t know how else we could stand a chance. We’re unprepared for an assault at this point.”She hummed thoughtfully and said, “What’s in it for you? I don’t have much in the way of supplies right now, and I don’t have enough in the way of numbers to be of any real protection at the moment…”

“Having you and your ragtag little army here with bring more and more people to the monastery. With the people, come the merchants, which means more business for Abyss and less strain on resources. And besides, the way I see it, the Empire is the reason I’ve lost so many of my people. And I’m really going to enjoy helping you send those bastards into the eternal flames after all that they’ve done.” He stuck his hand out and said, “Partners?”

She took it firmly and shook it once. “Partners.”

Balthus let out a roar of a laugh as he surged forward and spun her around. “B! Put the poor girl down!” Hapi called, a slight smile on her face.

He chuckled and she felt it as she was still trapped between his arms. “I’m just so excited! Things are finally looking up, ya know? Maybe now people don’t have to hunker down in their houses. Maybe now things can go back to normal!”

“Will you join us in fighting?” She looked between the four, who seemed to have a silent exchange amongst themselves.

“Gotta put these fists to work somehow!” Balthus pumped his fist in the air. “There’s the little problem of the bounties on my head and such, but I don’t think they’ll be too much trouble.”

“Bounties?”

“Yeah! That’s why I’m down here in the first place.” He rubbed the back of his head and chuckled somewhat sheepishly. “I’ve got lots of debts and stuff, so people come to try and collect.”  
Hapi rolled her eyes and said, “All of us have our reasons for being down here, but all of us want to make those Imperial jerks pay. We’ll do whatever you need us to.” 

“Why don’t you guys come to the war council meeting tomorrow so you can meet everyone and we’ll go from there? We’re going to discuss defenses, and you guys should probably start training with my students so we can see where you’d fit best. I’d love to see what you are all capable of.”

“Prepare to be blown away by the magnificence of my magical prowess!” Constance cackled as she swept her hair over her shoulder.

“I look forward to it.” Byleth nodded and raised her hand to try and cover her yawn.

“I think you’ve had enough for tonight, friend. Why don’t I lead you back up to the surface, and we’ll continue our chatting tomorrow?”

She nodded as she sighed and rolled her shoulders. “Now I have to go and deal with whatever mess has started up there with my disappearance.” She cut a glare at Yuri, who didn’t look abashed in the slightest.

Yuri started walking toward the door as he slyly said, “Your guard dog is fun to mess with. What can I say?”

“He’s not a guard dog,” she called as she walked after him, Balthus’ laughter echoing out behind her, “his name is Felix and he’s going to be absolutely insufferable.”

Yuri turned his head to look at her, a coy smile curling his lips. “Just come and hide with me then? Hm?” 

Something about the way Yuri was looking at her was making her feel really warm all over. She shook her head and muttered, “Don’t tempt me.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Headcanon is that Yuri has warping powers as well as Foul Play due to the Fetters of Dromi. Where's the fun if only the enemy has cool warping powers?
> 
> Those Who Slither had mages hiding out down in Abyss before the initial siege of the monastery. They figured that the people wouldn't be missed, so they kidnapped several for their experimentation. Yuri has suspicions about the group, but isn't sharing them with Byleth because she doesn't fully trust her. He blames the church for failing to protect the monastery, and was reluctant to make a partnership with Byleth, but Constance convinced him that it was the only way they were going to make things better for Abyss. They all stayed because they were worried about the people of Abyss and wanted to help Yuri and his gang protect them.
> 
> I'm not sure if it will come up later, but basically Cindered Shadows never happened because Yuri turned on Aelfric early in the game and snitched him out to Rhea. Rhea didn't take kindly to Aelfric crazy antics and had him killed for heresy. She then handed control to Abyss to Yuri, on the assumption that he would continue to funnel her information that he collected from his "birds". Basically Yuri was her spymaster and he will do something similar for Byleth.
> 
> Mess Around by Cage The Elephant played in my head when I pictured the massive brawl Byleth was pressured into.


	9. A Troubled Mind

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Felix and Sylvain react to Byleth's "disappearance". Sylvain has a VERY eventful night. Poor guy just wants some sleep.
> 
> Chapter title inspired by "A Troubled Mind" by Noah Kahan

~Sylvain~

“You’ve got to be fucking KIDDING ME!” Felix ran forward to stand where Byleth and that man had just been, like standing in that exact spot would take him wherever the man had taken Byleth. Felix was raging, and Sylvain was… freaking out.

“What are we going to do?!” Sylvain was trying to slow his breathing, but he was beginning to panic, and Felix stomping back and forth spitting out profanities was not helping him feel any better. “Felix!” The swordsman stopped pacing and turned to face him, but the mixture of anger and fear on his face wasn’t making Sylvain feel any better either. “What the hell are we going to do?!”

“I told her this was a stupid idea! I fucking told her! Why doesn’t she LISTEN?! Damnable woman!” 

“She’d… change it… if she was in trouble. Right? Right?! So maybe everything is okay?”

Felix scoffed and bitterly spat, “That or she’s dead already. Can’t exactly turn back time if you are dead.”

He screamed, “Don’t even say that!” 

“What’s going on? What happened?” Sylvain and Felix both turned to see a disheveled Ashe standing outside his partially open door.

“Byleth’s been taken. She might be dead. Who knows?!” Felix threw his hands up and made a sound that was somewhere between a scream and a groan of frustration. Sylvain ran a hand down his face and tried to think of what they needed to do.

“The Professor has been WHAT?!” Annette pushed past Ashe and ran out of the room in a night dress, her eyes wide in terror. “What are we going to do?!”

“That’s what I was saying!” Sylvain pointed to Annette, but that must have made her feel worse because now she just looked sad and scared and that definitely wasn’t good. “Okay. We need an adult. Seteth! We need to find Seteth!”

Felix scoffed and grumbled, “A fucking adult…”

Sylvain yelled, “Unless you are going to be helpful, you can shut up!” 

Ashe called, “Annette and I will go and wake the others to help search the grounds!”

“Okay!” Sylvain grabbed Felix’s arm and started dragging him in the direction of the second floor. “Let’s just pray Seteth is still up.”

Luckily, he was. They reached the second floor and turned the corner to see light spilling underneath the door of his office. Felix, being the tactful human being he is, banged on the door twice before throwing it open with a loud bang. Seteth jumped from his chair, already in a battle stance, and immediately looked like he was going to yell them into next week until Felix yelled, “Byleth has been taken!”

“What?” The advisor’s face paled as his eyes blew wide. “By whom? What happened? You were supposed to stay with her!”

Felix huffed and crossed his arms. “Right, because that woman listens to literally anyone.”

“Now is hardly the time, Mister Fraldarius.” Seteth grabbed an intricate lance and a lantern before he rounded his desk and stormed out of the office. They trailed behind him as he called, “What happened?”

Felix answered, “The spy we spotted earlier warped her away.”

“Do we have any ideas on who the spy is or where they might have taken her?”

“His name is Yuri, he’s got—”

Felix almost tripped over Seteth on the stairs with how fast the advisor stopped and turned to face them. Sylvain reached out quickly and caught Felix’s arm so he could straighten in time. Seteth incredulously muttered, “Yuri? He’s still here?”

Sylvain asked, “Wait… you know who this guy is?” 

Seteth sighed heavily and pinched the bridge of his nose, grumbling something about no good tricksters and wolves. “I know where we should search. I presume you have weapons with you?” 

Felix grumbled, “Of course, we do. Who do you think we are?!” Sylvain nodded as he put a hand on the handle of the axe strapped to his back. 

Seteth forced an impatient breath out of his nose and said, “We shouldn’t have to fight, but you never know with that one. Come with me.”

Seteth led them across the grounds, taking them around the corner where the training grounds were, and into the alley behind Byleth’s old quarters. He was muttering something to himself as he ran a hand along the wall carefully, until his hand suddenly disappeared.

“What the hell?” Felix stared wide-eyed as Seteth turned back toward them with a grim look on his face.

“Language, Mister Fraldarius.” Seteth then stepped through the brick wall, completely disappearing. Felix turned to look at Sylvain, and he shrugged before nodding toward where Seteth had disappeared. Felix stuck out a hand, and when it vanished just as Seteth’s had, he stepped through. Sylvain followed soon after, and found himself in some sort of manmade tunnel lined with torches.

“It’s a cloaking spell to conceal the entrance to Abyss.” Seteth explained, like that clarified literally anything at all.

He asked, “What is Abyss?”

Seteth seemed hesitant as he said, “That is… a long story. It is also not important at the moment. For now, we must go and find Byleth before she gets herself into any more trouble.” The advisor started walking down the tunnel, and after exchanging a quick look, Felix and Sylvain followed.

The tunnels seemed to go on forever, and Sylvain was still trying to stop himself from freaking out. The fact that Seteth knew who this guy was made him feel a little better, but Seteth really didn’t seem like a fan, and apparently there were an intricate set of tunnels beneath the monastery, so it was hard to keep himself calm.

After several minutes of walking, they heard footsteps and Seteth signaled for them to stop. A group of fighters ran around the corner, fully armed, and Felix immediately drew his weapon. Seteth held up a hand and called, “We need to see Yuri.”

One of the fighters toward the front shouted back, “Surface dwellers aren’t welcome here! Get out now!”

Seteth growled, “Take us to Yuri before I have the Knights come and clear all of you out.” His voice was… intimidating, and the fighters were not immune. 

They looked amongst each other, before the one in front nodded and grumbled, “Fine. Come with us.”

They led them further down, and part of Sylvain’s brain wondered if they would ever see the sky again. Felix was tense, every muscle drawn up tight as he gripped the hilt of his sword in whitened knuckles. 

After several minutes of walking they were greeted by another fighter, who immediately drew his axe and called, “Intruders?”

“They’re looking for the boss.”

“He’s in the arena with the other wolves.” The man loosened his grip on his axe, and the fighters began to lead them down a set of stairs where they found themselves surrounded by vacant market stalls. Sylvain was taking in their surrounding when he heard a familiar laugh somewhere further down. He looked in that direction just as Byleth and the purple haired man walked around the corner. Byleth was covering her mouth with a laugh as the guy, (Yuri was it?) smirked down at her. What was more disconcerting was the fact that half of her face was swollen, her lip was split, and there was visible bruising on her right shoulder and left side.

Felix shouted, “You FUCKING IDIOT!” Bright green eyes and light purple ones both flashed to them. The green ones filled with annoyance, and the purple ones were sparkled with amusement.

Byleth grimaced and said, “I told you he was going to be insufferable.” Yuri chuckled as he turned to face them. Sylvain took a moment to look the man over. He had long purple hair, similar to Byleth’s length, that reached his chest. He wore makeup, a gloss covered his lips, lavender powder dusted his eyelids, and his eyelashes looked extremely long and thick. His body was lithe, pretty similar to Felix’s. He was good looking, but rather than being interested by it, it caused Sylvain’s stomach to churn. Or maybe that was because of the way he looked at Byleth, and Byleth looked at him in return.

Seteth cleared his throat, drawing the attention of the group to himself, and sternly said, “Yuri, I shouldn’t have to warn you that kidnapping the acting archbishop is extremely foolish. You’ve caused a panic on the surface.”

“I’ve had nothing to entertain myself with for almost five years, Seteth.” Yuri wrapped an arm around Byleth’s waist and added, “Besides, we had to bang out the details of our new partnership, right friend?” Byleth punched him playfully in the shoulder as she rolled her eyes.

Felix looked like he was two seconds away from murdering Yuri, and Sylvain wrapped a hand around his arm as he clenched his other hand into a fist. Seteth pinched the bridge of his nose and said, “Byleth, I would advise—”

Her eyes narrowed in on the advisor as she firmly said, “Yuri is going to join us, Seteth. He and the others will be attending the war council tomorrow. He has provided us vital information, and he has even come up with a plan for the incoming attack.”

Seteth straightened at that, his eyebrows raised in interest. “Incoming attack?”

Yuri’s smile was full of practiced charm as he said, “My birds tell me the Emperor has sent General Randolph Bergliez to clear out the “enemy” living in the monastery. They are marching this way, and should be here in the next ten days.”

“That is… very soon,” Seteth cleared his throat heavily before somewhat reluctantly saying, “That is a very useful piece of information. Thank you, Yuri.”

Yuri cooed, “That’s why I’m here, isn’t it?”

Felix gritted out, “How about you explain why she looks like she’s been pummeled?”

“Ah! That’s on me,” a loud voice called as a HUGE dude walked around the corner with a girl with pinkish red hair and a blonde girl. “I thought we should have a little brawl to get to know each other, and boy did we!” The guy walked over and slapped a hand on Byleth’s shoulder. “Hey, do you want to get drinks with me sometime, by the way?”

Byleth shrugged, “Sure, drinks sound good. It’s certainly better than tea. It’ll have to wait until after the attack, though. I’m afraid Seteth here will be keeping me busy for the next couple days.”

“It’s hard being a boss, ain’t it?” The big man chuckled and turned toward them. “Hey! New faces!”

Felix, in a bitterly sarcastic tone, said, “Hey! The asshole that attacked Byleth!” The girl with the pinkish red hair snorted in amusement as the blonde made a noise of affront and put a hand to her chest.

“Attacked is hardly the best way to describe the events that transpired!” Her voice was haughty and Sylvain bit back a chuckle as he took in the scowl Felix directed her way.

“Actually, it’s pretty accurate.” Byleth shrugged and rolled her right shoulder as she winced slightly. “It wasn’t anything I couldn’t handle, though.” She pointed to the big guy and said, “This is Balthus, the blonde is Constance, and the girl with the red hair is Hapi.”

She pointed to him and said, “This is Sylvain, and the pissed off one is Felix.” She pointed to the swordsman, who scoffed and crossed his arms over his chest as he grumbled something under his breath. “They are my oldest friends and two of my former students.” Yuri gave her a look of interest and she mumbled, “Kind of a long story, and I’m exhausted after the ringer you put me through.”

“Right!” Yuri chuckled and circled a finger in the air as he called, “Let’s get these surface dwellers out of here. There will be plenty of time for niceties another day.”

“See ya later, Pokerface.” The redhead girl called as she walked down a different corridor, with the blonde at her heels.

“Pokerface?” Byleth turned to Yuri, who shrugged casually.

He responded, “She’s got a thing for nicknames. It’s a compliment… probably.”

The huge dude punched Byleth’s shoulder and said, “Hey! I want a rematch some time, ya? Not gonna go easy on you next time.”

Byleth’s eyes became sharp as the corner of her mouth curved up the slightest bit, the telltale sign that she was feeling competitive. “You’re on. And I’ve got somebody I want you to meet. I’m sure you and Caspar will get along really well.

“Whatever you say, pal!” The giant man waved jovially as he too walked down the corridor the girls had exited through.

They began walking the endless tunnels again, and Sylvain was trying his hardest not to drag his feet. It had been the longest day, and the night before certainly hadn’t been his greatest night of sleep. His eyelids were heavy and he kept yawning into his fist.

“Wake up, idiot.” Felix elbowed him with narrowed eyes.

“It’s been a long day,” he whined as he swerved into Felix mostly on accident. Felix rolled his eyes and shoved him off.

Felix grumbled, “I really don’t like him,” His amber eyes were zeroed in on Yuri’s back as he walked beside Byleth in front of the group, “I don’t know why she’s already so… trusting.” He waved a hand towards the two, right as Byleth snorted out a laugh at something he said and bumped him with her shoulder.

Sylvain shrugged half-heartedly and mumbled, “Maybe she likes him.” When amber eyes quickly flicked over to him, he turned to look down the path. He couldn’t trust himself to keep a mask on with how tired he was and how stressful the day had been. There was too much information in his brain, too many things to think about, and feelings to ponder over. All he wanted was a bed to sleep on, and for sleep to come quickly.

They finally reached the entrance, and Sylvain sucked in a deep breath of fresh air as they walked the narrow alleyway before coming out into open space. Yuri whispered something in Byleth’s ear, and she whispered something back. He grinned and backed away before giving a short wave and warping away.

“We have much to do, but for now you should rest. Please,” Seteth clasped his hands in front of his chest and shook them slightly, “inform me the next time you plan to meet a potential ally. You’ve scared everyone half to death.”

That earned the first hint of shame from Byleth. Her eyes were downcast as she nodded slowly. “I’m sorry, Seteth. I’ll inform you next time.”

Seteth rested a hand on her shoulder and she looked back up at him. “I know you don’t care for it, but you are someone that others rely heavily upon. I will be here to help you, but you must trust me to do so.”

Her eyes sharpened as her back stiffened, “Trust is earned, Seteth. If I haven’t earned yours after all that I’ve done, you shouldn’t urge me to give you mine.”

Seteth’s eyes darted to them before resting back on Byleth’s. “I will see you tomorrow.” He gave the slightest bow before walking away.

Sylvain walked over to stand at Byleth’s side and asked, “What was that about?”

“He knows something about what is happening to me. He knows something about why I slept, and he knows something about…” she trailed off before shaking her head and looking back up at him, “It’s not important right now.”

Sylvain was pondering whether he should push her for more information when Felix groaned in frustration and yelled, “Do you even think about your actions?! Or do you just enjoy running headlong into danger?!” It seemed we were getting into the scolding portion of the evening.

“Give it a rest, Felix. I’m fine,” she motioned to herself, “see?!”

Felix walked forward and pressed his hand into a forming bruise that could be seen in the gap between her shorts and the bottom of her shirt. Byleth hissed and smacked his hand away. Felix snorted and rolled his eyes. “Yeah. You’re fine.”

“It was basically a bar brawl. They weren’t trying to kill me or anything.” 

“They could have!” Felix threw his hands in the air and got into her face. “They could have tried to kill you, and there would have been nothing we could have done to stop it. Do you get that?! Do you understand?!”

Byleth blew a heavy breath through her nostrils and pinched the bridge of her nose. “He was working with Rhea. I knew he wasn’t going to—”

Felix growled, “You took the word of some random guy… why? Because he’s decent looking? What are you, Sylvain?!”

“Hey now…” His objection was ignored as the two continued glaring at each other.

“Not because he’s good looking, because I had a good feeling about him!”

“A good feeling?!” Felix’s voice reached a pitch Sylvain didn’t even know he could hit as he yelled. “You risked your life on a good feeling?!” Distantly his brain supplied that he should probably try to break this up, but he valued his limbs, so he thought better of it. There was really no point in getting in the middle when they butted heads like this.

“My feelings haven’t been wrong yet.” Byleth crossed her arms and raised her chin in defiance, which only seemed to anger Felix more.

“That is bullshit! You are…” he pointed at Byleth with a trembling finger and groaned in frustration as he tore a hand through his hair. “You are going to be the death of me, you DAMNABLE WOMAN!”

Byleth deadpanned and gritted out, “No. I’m going to be the reason you make it out of this war alive.” 

That seemed to take the wind out of Felix’s sails. He sighed heavily as his shoulders slumped. After a few deep breaths, he ran a hand down his face and muttered, “We should go and tell the others you’re safe. They are probably still looking for you.”

“Shit.” Byleth sighed heavily and turned to walk out of the little enclave they were standing in. 

It didn’t take long before they ran into Caspar and Linhardt. Linhardt heaved an exhausted sigh before slumping against Caspar, who chuckled and threw the mage bodily over his shoulder. “I’ll get him back to his room. We’re glad you are okay, Professor.”

As they were walking away, Linhardt lifted his head enough to mumble, “Please try not to disappear again, Byleth. Worrying over you when I’m supposed to be sleeping is not ideal.”

She called back, “I’ll do my best, Lin. Sorry to wake you!”

Sylvain idly said, “That looks nice, right about now.”

“What does?” Byleth turned to him with an eyebrow raised.

“Being carried to bed, for one. But really sleep just sounds nice.” Right on cue, a massive yawn ripped right through him, causing Byleth to chuckle breathily and Felix to scoff disdainfully. 

“Hop on.” Byleth turned her back to Sylvain, arms crooked to catch his legs in a piggy back, but he just laughed nervously as he slowly backed away.

“You’re ridiculous.” Felix rolled his eyes as he crossed his arms over his chest.

A wicked smirk crossed Byleth’s lips as she turned her head enough to look at Felix. “I’ve carried you to bed?” 

Sylvain busted out laughing, as Felix visibly flustered. He turned away from them to try and hide it and grumbled, “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Don’t lie, Fe,” Sylvain cooed as he dropped an arm around the swordsman’s shoulders, “By carried you back after we went drinking for your birthday. She carried you straight to bed, bridal style even!”

Felix elbowed him in the gut, and he doubled over as it momentarily knocked the air from his lungs. “Shut up, idiot.”

“I did,” Byleth insisted as Sylvain caught his breath, “you fought it, but eventually you passed out in my arms anyway.” Felix’s eyes became wide as saucers as his face and ears turned a pretty pink. Byleth deflated as she softly touched his arm and her voice became serious as she said, “You don’t remember it. I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have said anything.”

“You are both INFURIATING!” He looked between them with fire in his nearly red eyes. “Just… leave me alone!” Felix pulled away from her, turned on his heel, and stomped away.

“Oops…” Sylvain slowly stood up straight as Byleth walked over and lightly grabbed his arm.

“I didn’t know he didn’t remember it. I shouldn’t have said anything.” Byleth’s lips pulled down into a pout as she started to turn away.

“He’ll get over it… probably.” 

“Is your stomach okay? It looked like he hit you pretty hard.” 

“Eh,” Sylvain shrugged and threw an arm over her shoulders, “it’s better than your face, probably.”

She scowled and said, “You bareknuckle fight twenty guys, and then come and talk to me about my face.”

“Twenty guys?” He dropped his arm and turned to gape at her as she shrugged.

“Balthus is the one who lasted the longest. Sucker got me pretty good a few times.” 

“Come here.” Byleth lifted a brow in interest and stepped closer to him, and he slowly cupped her face with his hand. He closed his eyes and tried to concentrate as he felt the faith magic rush from his hand, into the swelling on her face. Byleth gasped and he opened his eyes to see her grinning at him. “When did you learn THAT?!” It didn’t look like it had done much, but faith magic really wasn’t his specialty.

“Lin taught me how to do a little bit.” _Mostly to heal hickies… but you don’t need to know that_. “I can only handle a basic heal spell, and it’s not very strong.” Byleth’s smile was wide and blinding, and he could feel it against his palm. It was then that he realized he was still cupping her face with his hand, and he cleared his throat loudly as he dropped it back to his side. “Anyway, it’s not a super big deal.”

“I think it is. I’m very impressed.” Byleth nodded and looped her arm through his as she proceeded to drag him down the pathway. “Let’s go see where the others are.”

It took them forever to find everyone and inform them that Byleth was safe. There were tears from Annette, fussing and more healing from Mercedes, and stammered gratitude for her safety from Bernadetta. Once they had sent the last of their friends back to bed, he felt reluctant to leave her side after everything that had transpired.

“Well… goodnight.” He saluted her awkwardly and she frowned as she fiddled her hands in front of herself.

“Um…” she looked off to the side and bit her bottom lip nervously, “would you… stay with me? Again?” She looked up at him, before quickly looking away again. “I’m just… not sure if I’ll be able to sleep… if I’m alone…” She was so unusually vulnerable and nervous.

She raised her hands defensively as her eyes widened, “But I don’t want to make you uncomfortable or anything. You definitely don’t have to do—”

He put his hands on her shoulders and she cut herself off mid-ramble. He softly said, “I can… if you want me to.”

Byleth heaved a sigh of relief as her shoulders slumped with obvious fatigue. “Thank you. Do you need to grab anything from your room first?”

“Something to sleep in would probably be a good idea…” he rubbed the back of his head, suddenly feeling nervous about the whole thing. 

“Okay! I’m going to bathe, so just walk in when you get to my room, okay?” Byleth gave him the slightest smile and waved over her shoulder before walking away.

Yeah. He was feeling nervous.

He tried to take his time grabbing his things in an effort to give Byleth time to get cleaned up, but also because of nerves. It all seemed so… domestic. He had obviously slept in bed with people, but it was usually after sex, or when they were traveling like he had with Felix the last few days. 

Shit. Thinking of Felix was not helping the situation. Would he feel hurt if he found out about it? Of course, he would… probably. But Felix had ended things with him… so…

That wasn’t an excuse. Sylvain stopped in front of Felix’s door, sleep clothes in hand, and raised a hand to knock. He stopped with his fist raised, thinking better of it. Felix had been really flustered and upset after their teasing. He couldn’t see a way in which, “Hey, I’m staying in Byleth’s room but I want you to know that I still miss you and I don’t want it to hurt your feelings but also she said she didn’t want to be alone and I want to do everything I can to help her because I love her but also that doesn’t mean I don’t love you so please stop being mad at me” was going to fix anything. He heaved a sigh before shaking his head and walking quietly down the hallway.

He knocked when he reached Byleth’s door, and grimaced when she didn’t answer. He tried the knob, and finding the door unlocked, let himself in. He hesitantly called, “By?”

“I’m in the bath. I’ll be out in a second,” came her reply, through a door on his right. 

He took a moment to admire the room before setting his sleep clothes on the bed. He was inspecting the titles of the books on the shelves when the door opened. He turned and tried to fight off the flush in his cheeks as his eyes landed on Byleth in a bathrobe. She walked over to her travel pack that was sitting at the foot of the bed and rifled through it before letting out a groan of frustration.

He asked, “What’s up?”

“I have no clothes. It’s officially become inconvenient.” She chuckled dryly as she threw the bag back down on the ground.

“Oh… that’s…” he coughed slightly and rubbed the back of his neck. “Would you like to borrow this?” He held up his sleep shirt and she glanced at it somewhat eagerly.

“Would that be okay?”

“Yeah,” He tried to keep his tone light as he waved a hand nonchalantly, “I can just sleep shirtless. That’s normally how I sleep anyway.”

“You’re a lifesaver!” She grabbed it from his hand and walked back into the washroom as he fiddled with his pajama bottoms. A few seconds later the door opened again and he had to cover up the choked noise he made with a fake cough. His navy-blue long sleeve sleepshirt landed just about where her shorts normally did, and covered more of her body than her normal clothes, but there was something about seeing her in his clothes that was doing _things_ to him. 

_This is going to suck._

“Feel free to take your time in there. The bath is really nice, if you want to get cleaned up.” Byleth walked over and crawled into the bed before getting under the covers.

“Right. Be back in a sec.” He walked into the bathroom, shut the door, and tried to suppress a groan. _Okay… I can do this. I can totally sleep in a bed with Byleth. I can do this. It doesn’t change anything that I’m in love with her. I just… have to breathe._

He stared into his reflection in the full-length mirror on the other side of the room and hated the look of disbelief on his own face. It was going to be a long night. He took off his armor pieces and sweaty clothes as he ran a bath, deciding it would be best to at least smell decent. The warm water felt amazing, but it was becoming harder and harder to keep his eyes open. He dried off and put on his pants, taking one last look in the mirror before walking out with his stack of armor and clothing in his arms. He set it on a chair beside a little tea table and looked over towards the bed, where Byleth sat waiting. 

“You were right about that bath, it’s way nicer than the ones in the bathhouse.” He chuckled nervously as he walked toward the bed, with Byleth’s bright green eyes watching his every movement. 

Byleth cleared her throat and muttered, “Yeah. It is.”

He slid beneath the sheets and laid on his back, staring up at the canopy of the bed. With the size of the bed, there was plenty of space between them, which was a good thing. Kind of. Byleth whispered, “Goodnight” and waved her hand to put out the candles. He kept fidgeting, trying to get comfortable, as his eyelids became heavier and heavier. Eventually, he succumbed to sleep.

He jolted awake to the terrifying sound of Byleth screaming. He sat up quickly and summoned a fire spell to his hand, ready to defend her, when he realized she was having a nightmare. However, it quickly became apparent that this was unlike any nightmare he had ever had. Her hair was slicked with sweat, every muscle in her body seemed to spasm as she thrashed about on her side of the bed. She was screaming more desperately than he had ever heard her.

“Byleth!” He moved to touch her arm, but she didn’t wake. She continued screaming like she was in pain. “Byleth it’s just a dream! Wake up!” He shook her, and she still wouldn’t wake. Panic began to course through him as his heartbeat thundered in his ears. He continued shaking her as he shouted, “Byleth! Please! Wake up!”

After a moment, Byleth’s thrashing stopped as she took the loudest gasp for breath he had ever heard and sat bolt upright. She was shaking violently as she curled up into a ball at the head of the bed, watching him like a cornered animal.

“By… are you okay?” He tried to scoot closer to her, but she frantically moved away as her eyes widened further. 

Her eyes moved frantically around the dimly lit room before they flashed back to him. She croaked, “Syl?” before flinging herself into his chest as she broke down in horrible sobs. He ran a hand through her hair and hushed her softly as a lump formed in his throat. He had never seen her like this, not even when her father died. 

“…so real… ripping apart… pain…” She was spitting out words between broken sobs as he tried to comfort her the best he could. 

“It’s okay. I’m here. It’s going to be alright.” He pulled her into his lap as she curled herself against him, still shaking like a leaf in a storm. His heart was aching. He didn’t know what to do. He didn’t know how to help her.

After several minutes filled with sobbing and panicked breathing, she finally settled. Her body relaxed against him, and the sobbing slowed to sniffling until she pulled away from him. She whispered, “I’m sorry,” as she bowed her head.

“Why are you sorry?” He reached out to try and hold her again, desperate for the contact, but she shook her head and moved further away. 

“I asked you to stay with me, then I woke you up, and now I’ve worried you. I’m sorry.” She tucked her knees to her chest and wrapped her arms around them as she sat against the headboard. She wasn’t looking at him, instead she was staring down at the sheets on the bed. Her eyes were still red and puffy from crying, and her hair was a tangled mess from all of the thrashing around she had done during her nightmare.

“Hey…” he softly whispered as he crawled closer to her, “it’s fine. Don’t worry about that.” He moved to sit beside her against the headboard and whispered, “Do you want to talk about it? The dream?”

She shuddered and hid her head in her arms. Her answer was muffled when she said, “Not right now. You should try to go back to sleep. It’s going to be a long day tomorrow.”

“Are you sure you don’t want me to—”

“No,” she cut him off as she lifted her head and crawled out of bed, “I’m going to go into the office and read for a while. You should go back to sleep.” She rifled through her bag for a moment, pulled out her father’s journal, and walked through the door opposite the one for the washroom.

Sylvain sighed and ran a hand through his hair, wondering what he was supposed to do in this situation. She seemed like she wanted to be alone, and as much as he wanted to hold her and make sure she was alright, he should honor her wishes… right? 

He laid down against the pillows and tried to slow his breathing. His heart was still racing from the abrupt awakening and seeing Byleth in that state. He counted out his breaths in an attempt to clear his mind, but nothing seemed to work. He bit back a groan as he reached up to rub down his face in frustration. He then rolled out of bed and walked over toward the door where Byleth had exited.

He found her curled up on a couch with a candle lit on a tea table she had pulled up beside her. She raised her head to look at him as he whispered, “Do you… want to be alone?” She tilted her head to the side as she nibbled at her lower lip, then she shook her head ever so slightly. He let out a relieved sigh and melted onto the couch beside her. She shifted to lean against his side and he wrapped an arm around her as he buried his face in her hair.

“I am worried about you, but that doesn’t have to be a bad thing. You know that, right?”

She murmured, “I don’t want you to be worried about me.”

He chuckled softly and squeezed her tighter. “I’ll always worry about you.” The words he would like to say got caught in his throat, refusing to come out, so instead he uttered, “That’s part of being friends. It’s part of caring about you.” She didn’t reply, she just nuzzled closer to him and hummed softly. After a moment he nudged her and whispered, “Come back to bed?”

She sat up and shook her head. “I’m going to read for a minute. I’ll join you soon, okay?” He searched her face, and seeing the earnestness in her expression, agreed. He slowly stood and walked out of the room, heading back to the bed. He laid back down and, with the knowledge that Byleth would be alright, slowly drifted back to sleep.

He woke up on his side, facing Byleth with an arm draped over her waist. Her hand rested on his forearm where his other hand was tucked under the pillow beneath his head. Warmth flooded through him as he took in the sight of her. Her hair was an absolute mess from last night, and her facial features were squished adorably against the pillow. This wasn’t the ethereal version of Byleth from his dreams, beautiful and untouchable. This was Byleth, real and here in front of him, though no less beautiful. He ached to touch her, but he was scared to move. He really didn’t want to wake her after the terrible night’s sleep she had. He took the slight risk and moved a little closer to her before he closed his eyes again, trying to appreciate the moment of peace.

The moment of peace was shattered by a knock at the door. Byleth jolted against him and quickly moved to sit up. She looked down at him and he smiled up at her as he whispered, “Good morning.” Her lip quirked up with a small smile, but it vanished as another knock sounded at the door. She crawled out of bed and walked to the door, opening it only slightly.

He could hear Seteth’s voice trickle through the crack as he said, “Good morning. I’ve invited everyone to meet in the Cardinal’s room in an hour, I hope that’s alright.”

Byleth nodded and responded, “I’ll be there. Thank you for notifying me.” She shut the door with a soft click and walked back over to crawl back into the bed. She buried her head in the pillow and groaned loudly. 

He chuckled and said, “Free day is over. Time to get back to responsibilities, I suppose.”

She turned over onto her side and propped her head up on her hand. “Yes. Unfortunately, there is a war to win.”

His heart skipped a little at that, and he shifted to mirror her position. “A war to win,” he chuckled and shook his head, “I’ve been so focused on defending my territory, that it’s something that hasn’t crossed my mind. It didn’t seem like there was any chance of winning until now.”

Her lips pulled down into a frown and her eyebrows furrowed. “I’m so sorry. It’s all my fault.”

“No! That’s not what I meant.” He sighed in frustration at his lack of words and fell onto his back. He hadn’t meant to imply that it was all because of her, but in a way, he supposed it kind of was. Having her and Dimitri back were the only things that were going to change the tide of this war. Her skills were invaluable, not even considering her connection to the goddess and her ability to turn back time. 

She rolled out of the bed and quietly said, “I should go and get Yuri and the others. I really want them to come and meet everyone.”

As she leaned over to dig through her bag, he hesitantly said, “You’re… really excited about Yuri, aren’t you?” 

She stood up with a thoughtful look on her face as she tilted her head to her fist. “Excited isn’t the right word. He’s… intriguing?” She pursed her lips and shook her head softly. “That’s not the right word either. I think he’ll be really valuable when it comes to winning the war and I wouldn’t mind getting to know him a little bit. He’s different.”

“Different?” He sat up in bed, the sheets slipped down to rest at his hips as he stretched his arms up above his head with a quiet groan. 

The slightest dusting of pink tinted her cheeks as she said, “Um… yeah. I’m going to… go get dressed.” Byleth nodded quickly and walked into the washroom as he watched her go. 

He decided he REALLY wasn’t a big fan of Yuri.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> FYI I changed Hapi's nickname for Byleth because she talks more in the fic than she does in canon so I figure Chatterbox doesn't really work anymore.


	10. Unfinished Business

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Ashen Wolves are introduced to the Lions, both original and the honorary. Plans for the coming attack are discussed. Byleth descends to the Holy Tomb to find Rhea's treasure, and finds so much more than she bargained for.
> 
> Chapter title inspired by "Unfinished Business" by Mumford & Sons

~Felix~

Seteth interrupted his and Ingrid’s spar to inform them that there was going to be a war council in an hour. Ingrid was as overly polite and dutiful as usual, agreeing to drag him there if necessary. He didn’t see why he needed to attend a stupid war council. All he needed to do was be ready to fight when the fighting actually started. Ingrid adamantly disagreed, and practically dragged him there by the ear despite his many protests and curses.

She dragged him to the Cardinal’s room and he took a spot at the end of the table, hoping that he would be out of the way enough to where he wouldn’t have to deal with anyone, especially Byleth or Sylvain. He still wasn’t thrilled about how everything went last night. _Damnable woman._

As a laughing head of purple hair walked into the room, he realized there was one person he wanted to see least of all. He REALLY didn’t like Yuri. He didn’t like the way he spoke to Byleth, he didn’t like how he looked at her, and he ESPECIALLY didn’t like the smug look he always seemed to send Felix’s way when Felix obviously hated him and wasn’t trying to hide it in the slightest.

What good could this one guy possibly be for the war effort? Byleth didn’t even know he existed until yesterday, and now she was looking at him like he was going to help her end this war. That was HIS job, not some rat who lived underground.

All four of the Wolves walked in with Byleth and Yuri at their center. The big brawler that attacked Byleth last night was joking around with the indignant blonde. The red head from the night before (he didn’t bother to remember her name) dropped into the seat beside him. The blonde sat down beside her after scooting her chair closer to the redhead’s. He growled, “What the hell do you want?”

“I like you.” The red head shrugged. “You’re all… angsty. It’s quite the vibe. And you seem like you might not be as stuck up as some of the other people here are probably going to be.”

“The VIBE?” He glared over at her as she shrugged again and turned toward the blonde and put her chin in her hand.

“Don’t you think Wolfie here’s got a cool vibe, Coco?” 

He spluttered, “Wolfie?!”

“I don’t really bother with learning names.” The redhead waved a hand through the air in a nonchalant way before sitting back in her chair and crossing her arms. “You just reek of, “I’m a lone wolf and a bad boy. Don’t come near me or I’ll bite you.” She snapped her teeth at him for emphasis and sent him a wry smirk.

“Wow... that’s… scary accurate.” Felix flushed as Sylvain’s laughter sounded out behind him. Felix turned to scowl at him, but he was already heading to the other side of the room to sit near Dorothea, who was watching Yuri talk to Byleth at the head of the table with a hint of amusement in her eye.

The room became noisier and noisier as more and more people trickled in. Luckily the redhead left him alone, instead speaking with the blonde in hushed tones as every new person who walked in looked them over warily. He crossed his arms and kept his eyes trained on the table in front of him, not wanting to deal with anyone.

“Good morning, Felix,” Mercedes cheerful tone sounded out behind him, and he turned to see her smiling softly down at him, “I didn’t see you come into the dining hall this morning, so I grabbed an extra serving of dried meat from the kitchen on my way here.” She held out the sack of food to him and he took it. He knew Mercedes was looking out for him, and he knew how pissed the others would be if he snapped at her. He was taken by surprise when her eyes widened and a surprised gasp left her throat. _All I did was take the meat…?_

“Am I in bed dreaming, or is that you, Mercedes?” The blonde that was talking to the red head squealed and stood from her seat to rush forward and grab Mercedes hand. He was stuck awkwardly between them as they bounced in excitement. “How serendipitous it is to see you again!” 

“Constance?!” Mercedes giggled excitedly as she put a hand delicately over her mouth. “Is that really you? You were so small when I saw you last. How you’ve grown!”

“You guys know each other?” Byleth’s voice sounded from the head of the room, and Felix bit back a groan as both girls turned toward her with excited giggles. 

“Indeed! Mercedes and her brother Emile were dear friends of mine while growing up. We have not seen each other in many years,” she turned toward Mercedes and clasped her hands in front of her chest, “I cannot express how worried I was when I heard you had left House Bartels. I was turned away any time I asked about you, and of course Emile would never tell me anything.”

“I’m sorry. There was so much going on in House Bartels back then…” Mercedes face became melancholy as she stared down at her feet, “But enough of that. I heard about the fall of House Nuvelle. I was so worried for you. I am glad to see you are indeed well. When we were little, I always thought of you as a little sister. It really is so good to see you!”

“This is actually a really good segue, now that mostly everyone is here…” Byleth gave both girls a pointed look, and Mercedes walked over to sit in a seat beside Annette with a small wave and a promise to meet up soon so they could catch up. 

Just then, the door flew open, and the boar stomped into the room with a disappointed-looking Gustave trailing in behind him. Byleth’s eyes narrowed ever so slightly as her mask of neutrality slipped on. “Thank you for joining us, Dimitri.”

He brusquely said, “I’m told we have heard news of an impending attack on the monastery. When will we be fighting?” 

Byleth leveled him with her stare and firmly said, “Have a seat. There is much to discuss.”

The air in the room filled with tension as the two stared each other down. The others watched in trepidation to see how the power struggle would end, but Felix was on edge about the boars look of fury when he looked at Byleth.

“I will comply…” the boar growled, “for now.” He stomped toward a chair in the corner, near the door, and dropped into it with a huff. Felix rolled his eyes and turned back toward Byleth.

She cleared her throat lightly and said, “As you can all see, we have some new faces with us today. I’d like to introduce you to the Ashen Wolves. This is Yuri, Balthus, Constance, and Hapi,” she pointed to each one respectively, “and they will be helping us in the war effort.”

“Wait…” Ashe hesitantly spoke up from his seat beside Annette, “I think I recognize you.” He was staring pointedly at Yuri as his eyes widened in realization. “Aren’t you Counte Rowe’s adopted son?”

“And you are Lord Lonato’s little brat.” Yuri smirked and nodded his head. “How’s the brother and sister?”

“T-They’re good!” Ashe flushed slightly and chuckled nervously under the pointed stare of the lavender-haired man. “What are you doing here? Why aren’t you at House Rowe?”

“Oh, I cut ties with him AGES ago,” Yuri waved his hand nonchalantly as Byleth looked on in interest, “Call it a difference of opinions, or whatever you’d like. He wants nothing to do with me, and I want nothing to do with him.”

“O-Oh… I’m sorry.” Ashe frowned slightly, but Yuri was still smiling from his seat beside Byleth at the head of the table.

“No need to worry, freckles. I’m not heartbroken over it. It was my decision to leave, and I’ve got other people to look after nowadays.” He waved a hand toward the other three, who nodded their heads with small smiles. Felix was busy trying to piece all of this together. Yuri was adopted by Counte Rowe? That would make him nobility, until he was either disowned or left House Rowe. Either way, Felix saw it as another reason to distrust Yuri. What did they even know about this guy, anyway? And now they were supposed to fight beside him like it was nothing?

Byleth chimed in with a soft smile on her face. “Alright… there are more connections in the room than I realized. That’s good. It will make integrating you guys into the team, that much easier.” All eyes quickly moved back to her as she clapped her hands. “Yuri was kind enough to let us know that a force has been dispatched to secure the monastery, and rid it of an unknown threat,” Her eyes landed on the boar, who huffed and turned away. “As of this moment, we are unprepared for any form of assault from Imperial forces. We don’t have the numbers, or the defenses necessary.”

Her eyes traveled between all of them slowly before she said, “We’ve come up with a plan to help even the odds, but I wanted to open the floor to you all so we could hear your ideas. You are no longer my students. You are soldiers and generals in this army. If you have thoughts or suggestions, I would love to hear them.”

Sylvain cleared his throat and said, “The obvious play here would be to speak with my father, Lord Fraldarius, and Count Galatea. They’ve been heading the rebellion in the efforts to keep the eastern part of Faerghus out of Cornelia’s clutches, and they may be able to send some of those forces our way if we are going to push against Edelgard. Especially if we plan to free Faerghus.” 

The boar growled, “We march toward Enbarr. All that matters is that I have that woman’s head.”

Gilbert interjected, “Your Highness, the people in Fhirdiad are suffering under Cornelia’s rule. If we were to attack Fhirdiad first, we would—”

The boar bellowed, “We march on Enbarr!” He then stood and stomped out of the room, slamming the door behind him.

Yuri scoffed and muttered, “So, that’s the Prince of Faerghus. He’s a real charmer.” Byleth cut him a sharp glare and he settled back in his seat with a small nod. 

Seteth cleared his throat and stated, “For now, I feel that our primary efforts should be the securing of the monastery. Reaching out to the Lords of the Kingdom is important, especially when it comes to securing supplies and extra forces. However, it will mean nothing if we are overrun when the Imperial vanguard attacks. Unfortunately, even if we sent someone to make contact now, there is insufficient time for them to send any help. We need to get through this attack, first.”

“That’s where Yuri’s idea comes in,” Byleth pointed toward Yuri, who winked at Byleth with a smug grin on his face, “Do you want to explain? Or would you like me to?”

“The floor is yours, friend.” He waved a hand toward the rest of them before leaning back lazily in his chair.

Byleth nodded and faced the rest of the room. “We will rig the empty town at the base of the monastery with a fire trap, lure the Imperial forces in, and blow it all.” Various gasps rang out through the room as Mercedes and Annette covered their mouths with faces of horror. “If we execute it correctly, it will thin the vanguards numbers, making it easier for us to route them completely.”

“That’s not a very honorable way to fight, Professor…” Ashe shook his head lightly and clenched his fists on top of the table.

“War is not honorable, Ashe. It’s a hard lesson to learn, but it’s an important one. In all of the fighting you’ve done the last five years, has the enemy always fought fairly?” She scanned the room as people bowed their heads or shook them. “We are a rebel force, and hardly a fraction of Edelgard’s standing army. That’s not even taking into account the monsters they are turning their forces into. If we hope to win, we need to be strategic, and we need to take every advantage. I will do anything it takes to secure Fodlan’s future, and right now this is what it will take.” She crossed her arms behind her back and looked around the room. All eyes were on her, and Felix couldn’t help being impressed by the air of calm and control she projected. You’d never believe she was the quiet mercenary girl he met all those years ago.

“If it sends those Imperial bastards to the eternal flames? I’m in.” Catherine slammed a hand on the table with her mouth set in a thin line and her eyes filled with determination.

“Ruthlessly efficient. I like it.” Shamir nodded once and Byleth nodded back.

“I’m afraid we have no choice.” Gilbert shook his head lightly before looking back toward Byleth. “We will do as you command, Your Grace.” Byleth looked outwardly unfazed, though Felix caught the flash of frustration in her eyes at the title. Felix didn’t hide his scowl.

“I have one other thing to bring to the group,” Byleth started as she pulled an envelope from the back of her shorts, “It’s a letter from Lady Rhea.” Catherine, Seteth, and Cyril all sat up straighter as their eyes blew wide. Byleth placed the envelope in Seteth’s outstretched hand. “She left it for me in her quarters. She speaks of a treasure she left in the Holy Tomb, and she claims it could help in the war effort.”

She turned to Seteth and asked, “Do you have any idea of what it could be?”

Seteth set the letter on the table in front of him and put a hand to his chin. “I know nothing of this treasure, but it must be quite valuable. If you intend to recover it, then I will accompany you.”

Byleth’s lips pursed as she tilted her head to her fist in thought. “If there’s any chance that it will help, we should go. However, she states that she set a trap and that retrieving it will be dangerous. We would need to put a group together.” Her eyes panned through the room again.

Yuri lifted a hand and stated, “The Wolves and I are willing to help, friend. I’d be interested to see this Holy Tomb.” The three others gave their affirmations with various levels of enthusiasm.

“I suppose that would be the best way to see what you guys are capable of.” Byleth sent Yuri the tiniest smile.

Linhardt lifted his head long enough to mutter, “I’ve already told you I’m going, though it’s mostly to look around once the danger has been taken care of.”

Caspar immediately called, “And I’m going if Lin’s going.”

“I’m coming.” Sylvain chimed in. He was watching Byleth warily, and there was a crease beneath his eyebrows that indicated he was worried about something, or someone. Probably Byleth. That left him no other choice.

“I’ll go.” Felix looked at Byleth through narrowed eyes, and she stared right back as she nodded solemnly. Someone needed to watch the damnable woman’s back.

“You have my lance, Professor.” Ingrid crossed an arm over her chest and nodded her head.

“I would like to help you as well, Your Grace. It would be an honor to enter the goddess’ Holy Tomb.” Gilbert bowed his head as Byleth nodded.

“If Lady Rhea left it for you, I’m gonna be there to help you retrieve it.” Catherine pumped her fist with a grin. Felix fought off a wave of excitement at the opportunity to watch Catherine in action. He didn’t get to see much when they fought against Lonato all those years ago, and he hadn’t had a chance to spar with her yet. Thunderbrand was legendary, and he was excited to see it firsthand.

Byleth nodded firmly and stated, “I think that should be a big enough group. If the rest of you would help with the rebuild while we’re down there, it would be greatly appreciated. Those that are accompanying me to the Holy Tomb, arm yourselves and meet me at the gazebo in an hour.” Byleth clapped her hands and waved her hands in the dismissal she always used when she was a professor. Apparently, it still worked as a commander, because everyone immediately stood and began to filter out of the room.

Felix stood and was about to leave as well, but he stopped when he noticed Bernadetta nervously looking at Yuri. Amidst the mess of yesterday, he had completely forgotten that Yuri supposedly looked like her dead friend Jasper. Judging by the look on her face, he guessed that he still did up close.

He walked toward her and whispered, “Are you alright?”

She yelped in surprise and jumped out of her seat to face him. “Ah! F-Felix! You scared me!”

“That’s not difficult to do,” Felix smirked slightly and nodded toward Yuri, “Does he still look like Jasper.”

“Mhmm…” Bernadetta nodded solemnly and stared at the floor. “I-It couldn’t be him, but it’s something in his eyes…” She trailed off as she looked over at Yuri. At the same moment, Yuri’s eyes panned to them, almost like he could sense that they were talking about him. Bernadetta yelped again as she moved to stand behind Felix. “C-Can we go?” Yuri was watching with an odd look in his eye, but it vanished quickly as he turned back to Byleth.

“Yeah. Let’s get out of here.” He glanced at Yuri one last time over his shoulder as he walked out of the room.

~Byleth~

They all grouped up at the gazebo an hour later, just as she had requested. She had to borrow a set of armor from Catherine due to the destruction of her own. It was uncomfortable, but it would keep her alive in a pinch. Seteth assured her that a blacksmith was already working on armor for her, and that it would be ready by the time the Imperials attacked the monastery.

“That’s a new look.” Yuri stepped up behind her with a sly grin. “I didn’t take you for a Holy Knight.”

“I’m not,” she assured him with the smallest frown, “I had to borrow armor. Mine was battered from sleeping in a river for five years and all of my other belongings were trashed after the invasion.”

He smirked as he leaned closer and whispered, “I’ve got people who can help with that down in Abyss. You should come by sometime so I can show you around.”

“I’d like that,” She smirked as he moved back to a more respectable distance, “as long as it’s not another date. The last one you took me on was awful.”

Yuri put a hand over his heart with an exaggerated pout. “Don’t say that, you’ll hurt my feelings.” He smiled wickedly and cooed, “I thought you were the type of girl who liked it rough.”

Heat rushed through her as someone cleared their throat heavily behind her. She turned to see Seteth looking none too pleased, glaring pointedly at Yuri as he said, “Are we ready to descend, Byleth?”

She cleared her throat and tried to shake the weird feelings away as she prepared herself for whatever they were going to face in the Holy Tomb. She replied, “Yes. Thank you, Seteth.”

He nodded and motioned for everyone to step back before he raised his arms to draw a sigil and murmur something under his breath. She craned her neck to hear what it was, but it didn’t sound like any language she had ever heard. Just as it had the day of Rhea’s supposed ritual, the gondola raised to reveal the same compartment. She fought off the urge to shudder as they stepped inside. Her memories of this place were not fond. She was glad that Dimitri wasn’t here. She met Sylvain’s eye from across the compartment and tried her best to send him a comforting smile. He smiled back, but it was strained if the stress around his eyes was any indication. She wondered what was worrying him so much.

As the doors slid open to the Holy Tomb, a wave of power washed over her. There was something in the air this time, she could feel it. She stepped forward and immediately froze as her eyes landed on three constructs that stood in the Tomb between the caskets that lined each side. The constructs almost looked like statues the size of a small house. They looked like they were wearing helmets similar to the ones the knights wore, and the Crest of Seiros was printed on shields the hung from the makeshift shoulders. A lion’s head made up the torso, and a metal skirt covered the lower half of the construct. 

Seteth called, “These are the guardians of the Holy Tomb. They will attack any intruders. We had better take care.” 

Balthus pounded his gauntlets (are those Relics?) together and shouted, “Well, let’s get going!” He ran toward the right a few paces, and a figure appeared directly in front of him. They were ghostly white, and she almost thought that it might be a spirit of some sort until the figure lashed out with its sword and stabbed Balthus in the chest. Yuri roared his name as he fell, and started to rush toward him before Byleth froze time.

She bowed her head as a shudder ran through her. She wondered if it would ever become easier to do this, to watch people die and change their fate without their knowledge. She didn’t know Balthus very well, but the thought of him dying still caused her chest to ache. The anguish in Yuri’s scream told her that he wasn’t being flippant when he told her it was important to him to watch out for his people. He really cared about Balthus.

She used the opportunity to observe their surroundings before turning back time. Enemies had sprung up all over the Holy Tomb, but something about the magic seemed concentrated on the figures in the center. She turned back time, watching as Balthus ran backward toward them again, before stopping beside Yuri as he had been before he died. 

“Well, let’s get going!” He shouted again.

“STOP!” He froze at her call and looked back at her quizzically. “There’s magic in the air. Does anyone else feel it?”

“Now that you mention it,” Linhardt murmured, “I do think there’s something going on. I assumed it had to deal with the guardians.” He pointed toward the constructs with a look of interest.

“I concur. There is a strange aura about this place.” Constance had a hand to her chin as she glanced around.

She shook her head slightly and walked slowly in the direction that Balthus had run off in. As the figure appeared again, frightened gasps rang out behind her, but she was prepared. She whipped the Sword of the Creator toward the figure. She wasn’t sure what it was, but it definitely wasn’t human. When she killed it, rather than blood and a cry of pain, the thing silently shattered into dust that filtered down to the stone floor.

Seteth walked up behind her and murmured, “Rather excessive merely to deter thieves, isn’t it?” He sighed and then loudly called, “We should target those commanding phantoms.” He pointed toward the ones that the magic seemed to be concentrated on. She was completely unsurprised by the fact that he knew about all of this.

“Ashen Wolves, with Seteth and I. The rest of you take out the ones on the left. Lin, stay back and heal from a distance. The guardians have magical barriers similar to demonic beasts. We’ll have to break them before we can do any real damage.” The Ashen Wolves ran to catch up with her and Seteth as they charged the other phantoms that stood between them and the stairs. 

Constance shouted, “Witness my divine magical prowess!” She lifted her hand and snapped, causing a huge bolt of lightning to fall on a group of four phantoms that were charging toward the stairs. 

“Was that Bolting?!” She turned to the blonde who grinned smugly in answer. “You know siege magic? That will come in handy. Keep them reserved until we get closer to the commanding phantoms. If we can take them out before we reach the golems, it would be helpful.” Constance nodded and continued to run as Hapi took out the last phantom mage between them and the stairs. Byleth was impressed by the range of her magic. 

They reached the bottom and she turned to Constance. “See the heavily armored one there?” She pointed and Constance nodded as she raised her hand and snapped just as she had before. The lightning struck true and the armored knight and the archer beside it shook, but made no sound and didn’t shatter. The archer shot an arrow toward Constance, and Byleth pulled her out of the way.

Balthus shouted, “Hey! Watch this!” He pointed his glowing gauntlets at the archer and a Seraphim spell flew from them and shattered the archer to dust. 

“Faith magic? Really?” She had never heard of a brawler who also specialized in faith magic. She was impressed, and he seemed to notice.

He laughed heartily as he struck a brawler phantom, shattering them (it?). “What can I say? I’ve got a thing for the goddess!” She snorted, unable to bite it back as she pondered how Sothis would feel if she heard something like that… or what Balthus would say if he knew the goddess looked like a child.

Yuri had warped forward and was fighting with the heavily armored knight as Catherine moved to take out a mounted archer. Yuri struck a fatal blow, and when the heavily armored knight shattered, the sound of creaking metal filled the air. The guardians’ movements became jerky, and they stopped advancing toward them.

“The first guardian! Strike now!” Sylvain, Ingrid, and Felix immediately began moving that direction. They were used to her command, and it showed. Caspar was hanging back with Linhardt as three phantoms with axes rushed toward them. She began to run toward them, but paused when Yuri had already warped behind the phantoms and stabbed one in the back, shattering it. Those warp abilities were really going to come in handy.

“Do either of you know warp?” She turned to the female mages beside her, and they both nodded. She decided she loved the Ashen Wolves. She also made a mental note that they needed to see if her other mages had the capability to learn the spell. “Can you send me toward the second guardian?”

“Send me, as well.” Seteth walked toward her, watching her carefully with his lance resting on his shoulder. She nodded as both girls raised their hands. The world shifted around her, making her stomach churn for a moment before she landed on solid ground again. 

She and Seteth both charged the construct, which raised its arm as a javelin made out of light appeared. It spun around and launched it toward them, and Byleth grabbed Seteth’s arm to pull him to the ground as it flew directly over their heads. She could feel the energy as it flew above her, it was enough to make the hair on her arms stand on edge.

“What the fuck ARE these things?!” A massive crater was left in the floor behind them when she turned to see where it struck. It had blown apart the stone of one of the caskets, and an unexplainable fury ripped through her.

Seteth growled, “Language, archbishop.”

“Acting archbishop! And I’d say it was called for!” She whipped the Sword of the Creator toward a mage that was charging toward them and roared, “These things are going to destroy their resting place!” She froze. _Who’s resting place? Why did I say that?_

Seteth had moved to attack the guardian with his lance while she took out the phantoms that had begun to charge. He called back, “They are still too strong. We need to strike the remaining commanders.” He pointed toward two mounted phantoms and a mage that stood at the bottom of the steps that lead to Sothis’ throne. 

“Yuri!” She shouted his name, and a few moments later he stood beside her with an easy smile.

“Yes, friend?” 

She cast a Ragnarok spell at an approaching archer and hurriedly said, “We need to get to those three. Take me?” She pointed toward the commanders and Yuri followed it with his eyes.

“I thought you’d never ask.” Yuri smirked and stepped forward, wrapping his arms around her waist as Seteth called her name. They were surrounded by light, and her head swam again before her feet were again on solid ground. Yuri pushed her out of the way as a fire spell flew toward them.

She nodded in gratitude and called out, “Stay back!” 

She could feel his eyes on her as she charged forward and unfurled the Sword of the Creator. She swung it toward the mage, shattering the phantom immediately. She pulled the whip back and then twirled it through the air like a ribbon. It spun in a circle, unfurling far enough to take out the two mounted units, as well as two other phantoms that had started to charge toward her.

As the Sword of the Creator became whole again, the sound of creaking metal filled the air as a surge of magic rushed through her, and then quickly died. Cries of victory rang out around her as she turned and noticed that the guardians had slumped forward, no longer moving, and all of the phantoms had faded to dust. The Holy Tomb was in shambles, with dust all over the floor and craters where the supposed guardians had attacked. Her chest ACHED, physically ached, as sorrow rushed through her. She didn’t understand it, and she pressed a hand to her chest after sheathing her sword.

“Why the long face?” Yuri sauntered up to her, his eyes analyzing her as he cooed, “You were spectacular. You should be cheering with the rest of them.”

“I’m… not sure.” Yuri’s eyebrows furrowed as he looked at her in slight confusion.

“Excellent work, Byleth.” Seteth had reached her side and was wiping his forehead with a cloth he pulled from his armor. “I’m sure Rhea placed the treasure on the throne, would you like me to retrieve it?”

“No…” She shook her head as she turned to look up the stairs. When her eyes fell on the familiar stone throne, something flashed before her. An image of a throne room, with people with non-distinctive features surrounding her. She put a hand to her head as pain blossomed at her temples. 

**“Your will and mine are now one. Both sides of time are revealed to you… and you alone.”** Sothis’ voice rang through her mind and she stumbled backward into Yuri, who grabbed ahold of her arms and said something, though it sounded too far away to comprehend what it was. **“You know I am the Beginning. What shall you do?”**

“Byleth?” She blinked and Felix and Sylvain were both standing in front of her, matching looks of confusion and worry written all over their faces. 

Felix asked, “Are you injured?” His eyes were trailing over her as he asked, but she shook her head. 

“No… it’s…” She looked back up at the throne, and it almost felt like it was calling her. Some sort of power seemed to emanate from it, and it felt like it was pulling her in. For the briefest moment, she could have sworn she saw… “Sothis…”

“What?” Yuri’s perplexed voice sounded out behind her, and it was then that she realized he was still holding her up. She stood on her own two feet and started to walk toward the steps.

“Byleth.” Seteth caught her arm, and she turned to look at him. “I’m not sure that is wise.” His face held genuine worry, and she frowned as she turned back toward the throne.

“I have to go…” 

“What’s happening? Are we getting a treasure, or what?” Balthus’ voice sounded far away as she took the first step toward the throne. 

“By?” Sylvain stepped in front of her, and she raised an arm to lightly push him aside as she continued to ascend the stairs. The power that she felt became stronger and stronger the closer she got. It seemed to hum through her veins, and her chest filled with warmth as she turned to sit down where Sothis had rested all of those years.

The world around her faded away to darkness, but she was unafraid. She walked forward, steps steady and sure, and the scenery shifted from empty darkness to smoke and flames. She stood amidst the carnage of burning carriages, and the dying screams of soldiers. Her eyes fixated on the carriages that bore the Crest of Blayddid, and something stirred in the back of her mind. 

She realized she had seen this scene before… but where? 

A child cried out nearby, and she turned toward the sound. She moved forward to stand before the child, who was crying over the decapitated body of his father. A knight stood in front of him, his sword drawn, and his icy blue eyes narrowed as they searched for the coming danger. A tightness formed in her chest as she recognized a young Dimitri and Glenn. The image before her blurred, and she raised a hand to her face and found that her cheeks were wet with tears. 

“Please… Goddess! He can’t be gone! He can’t leave me! Bring him back! Please!” Dimitri’s pleas moved her, but when she lifted her hand, she found that no power came. She was unable to change the fate of these individuals. Something was holding her back.

Glenn grimaced, his eyes filled with sorrow and fear, and reached back to grab Dimitri’s arm. “You must survive, Dima. We need to get you away from here.” Dimitri didn’t respond. His sky-blue eyes were wide, and would not stray from the gruesome corpse of his father that lay before him. Glenn shook him, and the darkness that had begun to creep into his expression cleared as the prince’s eyes moved to look into Glenn’s. “If you die, Faerghus will fall! If you fall, this will all be for nothing!” Glenn’s voice was filled with fear, but she saw the determination and love that was fighting to overcome that fear. The same determination that would see his prince and loved one to safety.

Glenn began to pull Dimitri through the wreckage, and she followed close behind. Dimitri was pale and trembling as they weaved through the burning carriages, but Byleth’s eyes strayed to land on one that was untouched. She moved to walk toward it, but was distracted by the shouts of enemy mages as they rushed toward Glenn and Dimitri.

Glenn called, “Run, Dima! We have to run!”

They were not fast enough. No matter how hard Glenn tried, the enemy was catching up to them. He pushed Dimitri behind him and turned to face the enemy. His look of determination so resembled Felix’s, and the thought made her chest ache as he rushed forward to cut down a masked mage. 

The sound of a horse’s whinny drew her attention, and she turned to see a young Gilbert running into the fray. Confusion pulled at her mind. Why was Gilbert there? He is a Knight of Seiros? None of it made sense to her. They were able to finish off the group of masked mages, but more shouts could be heard coming toward them.

Chanting and dark magic filled the air as Glenn shouted, “Gustave! You have to get him out of here. I’ll hold them off as long as I can.” He pushed a trembling Dimitri into Gilbert’s arms, before turning and running toward the chanting mages.

Dimitri kicked and shouted as Gilbert dragged him toward the horse. She could hear his cries of, “NO! Glenn! Stay with me! NO! Don’t leave me!” 

“Don’t leave him, Glenn! Go with them!” Her voice didn’t carry as she tried to grab his arm, but her hands went right through him. She had no effect on the world around her. Fury burned in her chest as she turned to face the bird beak shaped masks of the mages before her. They looked just like the ones from the Holy Mausoleum, and from the day they fought Kronya and Solon. That’s when she realized it… she hadn’t seen any warriors from Duscur. She looked around to confirm it, but got distracted when she heard a scream of pain.

All of her thoughts were forgotten as she ran to kneel beside Glenn. He gasped desperately for air with eyes filled with sadness and fear. His armor had caved in from the force of the dark magic that his body was now riddled with. He croaked out, “I'm sorry...” as his last breath left his lungs. Her throat constricted as her eyes again filled with tears. His face still held his fear, even as his body was continually ravaged by the effects of the dark magic. She screamed, “He was only a child!” Fury began to take hold, and it roared within her when she heard a laugh echo from her right.

She turned her head, a growl of rage building in her throat, and her eyes landed on a semi-familiar man with long dark strands surveying the wreckage and misery before him. A trembling woman stood at his side. Byleth noticed that she was beautiful, and dressed in fine clothes. She had light brown hair, and violet eyes that Byleth recognized, but couldn’t seem to place. The man’s voice was cruel as he said, “You failed to provide us the boy.”

The woman opened her mouth to reply, but Byleth could no longer hear her. There was a ringing in her ears as the image before her cracked and blurred. “No! No no no no no!” She stood and tried to rush toward them, desperate to hear what the woman was saying. She KNEW it was something important. She KNEW she was supposed to see this. What was happening? This wasn’t right! 

Dizziness took over as the image faded away completely, and she opened her eyes.

~Sylvain~

Sylvain had fought in many battles, but this had to be one of the weirdest ones so far, and he’d been in some weird ones. Enemies that shattered to dust, enormous statues that threw javelins of energy that left craters in the stone behind them. They had been fortunate that no one had been caught by one so far, though he had Felix to thank for that. His quick thinking was the only reason Sylvain had gotten out of the way in time when the first one caught him by surprise.

The sound of creaking metal filled the air, and the statue he was fighting immediately sagged forward. He stepped back nervously, eyes still carefully watching it for any movement, but he sighed in relief as Gilbert incredulously said, “They are gone. They’ve all turned to dust.” He glanced around, and realized that all of the phantoms that had been charging towards them were now piles of dust on the floor. 

What type of magic did Rhea have that created phantoms that fought like real soldiers? Where had these statues come from? It became increasingly obvious that the archbishop was someone that was not to be trifled with.

He knew something wasn’t right as soon as he looked at Byleth. She was standing near Seteth and Yuri at the bottom of the stairs that led to the stone throne, and her hand was pressed against her head as she wobbled slightly on her feet.

He whispered, “Something is wrong.” He glanced over at Felix on his right, who immediately started running toward Byleth. He followed soon after. His chest tightened with worry as she fell backwards into Yuri. 

Genuine worry was laced in Yuri’s tone as he said, “You alright there, friend?” 

Byleth didn’t respond. Her eyes seemed far away when he approached. It was a look he hadn’t seen on her face in a long time. He stepped in front of her and called her name, and her eyes flicked to them, but they were still hazy. Felix asked if she was injured, urgency and fear laced in his tone, but she shook her head no.

She murmured, “No… it’s…” She paused and looked up the stairway toward the stone throne. Her eyes were far away again as she whispered, “Sothis…”

Sylvain looked to Felix, who was wide eyed and worried as Yuri murmured, “What?” Seteth’s eyes became wary as he moved toward her. 

Byleth started to walk up the stairs, but Seteth grabbed her arm. “Byleth, I don’t think that is wise.”

Panic shot through Sylvain, and he turned to grab Felix’s arm. Byleth whispered, “I have to go…” and the panic doubled. He raced around her as she walked up the stairs, he distantly heard the murmurs of confusion from the people behind him, but all he could think about was the fact that he needed to stop Byleth.

He stepped in front of her and called, “By?” Cold dread washed through him when she didn’t even glance at him. She lifted an arm and pushed him out of the way, her eyes solely resting on the throne at the top of the stairs.

“What is she doing?” Felix was a few steps below him, looking at Byleth’s back with obvious confusion.

Sylvain raced down the few steps between them and pulled him close enough to hiss, “The archbishop thinks Byleth is just a vessel. She thinks Sothis could take over. And now Byleth isn’t responding.”

Felix’s eyes blew wide with realization and he immediately turned to race up the stairs. Ingrid called for them to stop, but they didn’t listen as they followed behind Byleth. She turned, and a slight smile pulled at her lips as she sat down on the throne. Sylvain was frozen in shock as her eyes lit up and her hair began to glow. She raised a hand, and golden light sprung from the throne. It flowed straight through him and Felix, down past them toward the others standing at the bottom of the stairs. 

Exclamations of alarm and confusion rippled through all of them, but Sylvain’s eyes landed on Seteth, who’s face held a mixture of reverence and fear. The golden light flew throughout the tomb, circling the guardians they had fought and the stone caskets that lined the room. When the golden light dissipated, the guardians were gone, and the caskets and floor were made whole. The effects of the battle were completely gone, and the tomb looked good as new.

“Syl!” Felix’s frantic cry shook him from his musings, and he turned to see the swordsman shaking Byleth’s shoulders. She wasn’t responding to his touch. Her eyes and hair were still glowing as Sylvain ran the last couple steps to stand in front of her. 

“What do we do?!” Frantic amber eyes met his, and Sylvain panicked.

“I don’t know!” He leaned down to shake her shoulders, but again, it did nothing. 

“Take her off the throne!” Seteth had climbed the steps and was standing behind them, his eyes wide as he took in the scene before him. 

Without another thought, Sylvain scooped Byleth up into his arms. Her eyelids drooped shut, and her hair dimmed back to its normal shade of green as her body went slack. “Byleth!” Felix moved to stand in front of him and took her hand between both of his.

She was still for several dread filled moments, but then her eyebrows furrowed and she groaned. “No… no no no…” Her eyes shot open as she tried to get out of his arms. “Put me down! I have to see—”

“What the hell just happened?!” The panic in Felix’s voice must have alerted Byleth that something was wrong, because she immediately stopped fighting his hold.

“I have to see the rest. I have to go back!” She turned to look at Sylvain, but he shook his head no.

His voice wavered as he said, “By… you weren’t responding to us. Your eyes and your hair were glowing, and you did some sort of magic to repair the tomb.” 

Her eyebrows furrowed in confusion as she looked past Seteth, toward the chamber below them. The rest of the people that had come down to the Tomb with them were beginning to climb the stairs, and she again pushed on his chest. “I’m fine, Sylvain. Put me down!” 

He reluctantly did as he was asked, and she moved to sit on the throne again. She closed her eyes, and took a few deep breaths, but her eyes and hair didn’t begin to glow again. “Damn it!” She hit the arms of the throne with her fists as she bowed her head. Suddenly her head lifted, and she turned to him with eyes narrowed with fury. “Why did you move me?! I needed to know what they said!” He staggered back in the face of her anger, and confusion and hurt settled in the pit of his stomach. 

“Byleth…” Seteth’s voice was cautious as he stepped forward with a placating hand raised, “not here.” 

The others had joined them, and were now crowding around the stone throne. “That’s a nice seat, pal, but… what the heck is going on here?” The big brawler, Sylvain couldn’t remember his name, rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly as he looked at Byleth.

“Yeah… what’s up with the light show?” The red-haired mage’s eyebrows were furrowed before she turned to look back down at the chamber.

“What sort of spell was that?” Linhardt’s eyes were wide and lit up with wonder. “Everything is completely repaired. The guardians disappeared without a trace.”

“Professor,” Ingrid only had eyes for Byleth as she walked forward to kneel down in front of her, “are you alright?” Sylvain turned back and was shocked to notice that Byleth was crying. She was trying to hide it, and she quickly turned away from them as she tried to neutralize her features, but she was obviously distressed.

Seteth called, “I have found the treasure that Rhea left behind.” He was standing near a chest to the right of the throne and he patted it with his hand. “We should not linger in this holy place.” He was obviously trying to distract the others from Byleth’s distress, and it was working. The big brawler walked over and picked up the chest as the others began to shuffle down the stairs with murmured confusion.

“Byleth,” Felix had moved to kneel where Ingrid had, “what’s wrong?”

Sylvain was startled by the haunted look in Byleth’s eyes when she raised her head. “Seteth was right, we should leave.” Her voice was empty of emotion as she stood and Felix quickly moved to get out of her way. Without another glance she quickly walked down the stairs. 

Sylvain hesitantly asked, “What just happened?”

Seteth sighed heavily and murmured, “I think the goddess may have sent her a vision… and I think we may have interrupted it.”

Felix rounded on the advisor and grabbed the front of his armor. “What do you know?!” 

Seteth leveled him with a stare, completely unfazed by the raging swordsman. “I don’t know what you are talking about.”

Felix growled, “Bullshit. Rhea thinks she’s a vessel? Thinks Sothis will just take over? Well I’m not going to let that happen! Do you hear me?! I don’t care what I have to do!”

“You are concerned for your friend,” Seteth firmly grabbed Felix’s hand and pried it away from his armor, “I can understand your worry. However, I desire Byleth’s safety, just as you do. I owe her a debt I can never repay.”

Felix glared at Seteth, eyes glowing almost red in his fit of rage, before he huffed and turned to face Sylvain. “We need to talk to Byleth.” He motioned toward the stairs and started walking, his shoulders rigidly set and jaw tensed. Sylvain glanced at Seteth one last time before following him down the stairs.

He wasn’t sure what had just happened, but he had a feeling he wasn’t going to like it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WHELP! Wasn't that exciting? In case you haven't noticed with the dreams that Byleth had while she was sleeping, I plan on having Byleth be a little more... goddess-y... than is necessarily canon. Sothis is also pulling more strings than she does in canon. 
> 
> As always, I appreciate thoughts and criticisms in the comments. Feedback is a valuable tool!


	11. Tortured Soul

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Byleth struggles with the repercussions of her vision, and tries to seek out answers to some of her questions.
> 
> Song title inspired by "Tortured Soul" by Chord Overstreet  
> (I think having a connection with an ancient goddess qualifies Byleth as a tortured soul.)

~Byleth~

_What the hell just happened? What does all of this mean? Was that Sothis? Why does it feel like I had seen it before? Was that really the Tragedy of Duscur? How would I be able to see that? Why was I seeing it in the first place?_

Her mind was spinning, replaying all of the horrifying things she had seen, as she quickly walked past all of the people who had been kind enough to accompany her down into the Tomb, and entered the compartment that would take them back to the surface. She must have looked like she felt, because everyone gave her plenty of space. She was too busy contemplating all she had just seen to take in the looks of concern that were being sent her way. She could only imagine what they might be feeling, but she had sunken too deeply into her own thoughts to try and deal with it.

As soon as Felix, Sylvain, and Seteth (dragging a loudly protesting Linhardt) walked into the compartment, Seteth pulled the lever and the compartment began to take them to the surface. Then, as soon as she was able, she took off. The carnage-filled images were rapidly becoming too much for her. How had Dimitri lived through such a thing? She had the overwhelming urge to go and hold her lion cub, but the possibility of talking about it hurting him further, stopped her. 

She ran up the stairs to the third floor as she pulled at the lacing that held the uncomfortable Holy Knight armor to her limbs. When she unlocked the door, she began pulling it off and throwing on the floor as she made her way to the bed in the center of the room. The Sword of the Creator hit the floor with a resounding thud as her body began to quake. Glenn’s sorrowful “I’m sorry…”, the troubling screams of the knights that died for their king, the image of a young Dimitri crying helplessly over the gruesome corpse of his father, all of it felt like a crushing weight on top of her.

“Byleth!” Felix pounded at the door, but she pulled the pillows over her head, trying to block out the sound. 

Felix. How would he react to the things she had just seen? How would he react to the knowledge she now possessed? How could she tell him that she had just knelt by his brother as he died, when she wasn’t even sure if what she had seen was real? She suspected it was, all of it felt too important, but she was still missing vital pieces of information. 

Should she try to get answers from Dimitri about the things she had seen? A shiver went down her spine at the thought. She didn’t think there was even a possibility of that conversation ending well, especially considering the fact that she hadn’t had many actual conversations with him since she had woken up without ending up with a bruise or two. Dimitri was too unstable right now. 

That only left her one other option… She would need to speak with Gilbert. The image that had flashed before her the day she reunited with everyone was the same Gilbert as in the vision. That had to mean something. Had he really been there? Was he really one of the last people to see Glenn alive? Glenn had called him Gustave, was that his real name? When had he changed it, and why?

The door opened, and she cursed herself for forgetting to lock it in her frantic state. “By?” Sylvain’s voice was soft as the muffled sound of footsteps walked toward her.

“I need a minute,” she croaked. She didn’t lift the pillow from her head, instead she continued in her effort to steady her frantic breathing and push out the images that flashed before her every time she closed her eyes. 

She needed to find out who the man and woman were. They were tied to the Tragedy of Duscur, she just knew it. That would mean they were involved with Kronya and the mage who had hit her with dark magic the day she fell. The same mage who was there the day her father died. She remembered the conversation she had overheard with Dimitri in the outskirts of town that day. How many others were involved with that lot? Are they still working with Edelgard five years later?

Felix’s voice was muffled through the pillow, but she could still hear the hesitance and concern as he asked, “What the hell just happened?”

“Was it some sort of revelation from the goddess?” Apparently Seteth was also in the room. The thought of the advisor seeing her like this was troublesome, but it was the least of her concerns at the moment.

Sylvain hesitantly asked, “Are you okay?” The last question was the one that made the unbeating heart in her chest, twist. She had been cruel to Sylvain in the Tomb, and she knew it. She shouldn’t have snapped at him, especially when she knew what he probably thought was happening. That hadn’t been the case, but how was he to know that?

She reluctantly took the pillow off her head and sat up against the headboard. Her body was still trembling, she couldn’t seem to help it. She wondered if it was an effect of the magic, or if it was her body going into shock after everything she had seen. “I…” she looked between the three men in front of her, and pondered what she was supposed to say, “I need to be alone for a while.” Seteth nodded sagely, bowed, and walked out of the room. 

Unfortunately, Sylvain and Felix were not as simple. 

“You aren’t going to tell us what that was?” She could see the concern and fear in Felix’s eyes. “Why didn’t you tell me what Rhea said? How long have you known?” There was a hint of betrayal in his tone, and she bit back a retort about the fact that he hadn’t exactly been around much since she had woken up. She had planned to tell him about what she had heard after the battle of Garreg Mach, but then she had fallen asleep for five years, so that put a damper in the plan.

“I told him about the whole… vessel thing…” Sylvain rubbed a hand along the back of his neck and looked off to the side sheepishly, like she might scold him for his actions. 

She pulled her knees to her chest and hugged them tightly as she replied, “I’ve known since the day Rhea told me I was going to be made archbishop if anything happened to her. She thinks I’m Sothis, or maybe that Sothis will take over, I’m still not sure. A wet sigh escaped her before she whispered, “To her, I’m just the vessel for the goddess.”

“You aren’t a vessel! You said Sothis was gone! It’s not going to happen!” Felix was practically vibrating with emotion, and part of her melted at his obvious concern for her.

“I don’t know…” She looked down at her knees as she picked at a loose thread on the blanket. “Something is happening to me, and I don’t know—”

“Stop!” Felix climbed onto the bed in front of her, and tried to get her to look at him. “Tell us what’s going on. Enough of the side stepping.”

Her voice cracked as she dropped her eyes and softly said, “I don't know if I can.”

“Why?” Sylvain had pulled off his armor, walked around the bed, and crawled over to sit beside her. She knew they were both worried, and she wished she could tell them that everything was going to be alright, but ever since she had woken up, things had become stranger and stranger. These visions, the dream she had last night, and the magic she had apparently done in the tomb… she didn’t know what any of it meant.

“I don’t know what is happening. I’m having these… visions. Things that feel like memories, but aren’t. They feel so familiar, and the emotions that are tied to them aren’t mine. The dream I had last night,” her hands began to tremble again, as her voice shook with emotion, “it felt like I was really experiencing it. It felt like it was happening to me.”

Felix asked, “Aren’t all dreams like that?”

She slowly shook her head, “No… you don’t understand,” She looked up at Felix and murmured, “I think it was Sothis’ memory. I think it happened to her, but it’s…” she trailed off, unable to finish her sentence. It used to feel like Sothis was a separate entity in her head, but the metaphorical line that used to divide Sothis and herself felt like it was becoming blurry.

“What happened in the dream? You were screaming like you were in pain. I tried so hard to wake you up, but you wouldn’t.” Sylvain’s voice wavered, and she turned to run her fingers lightly through his hair. He rested his forehead against her shoulder, whether it was an attempt at comforting her, or himself, she wasn’t sure. She knew she had worried him, but the haunted look on his face made her realize she didn’t know quite how much.

“I was sleeping in the Holy Tomb,” she started and Felix’s eyes widened, “Mages came in and took my body. They ripped me apart, and I felt all of it. My spine was ripped out, and my blood was drained from me as the mages chanted.” Bile rose in her throat and she shuddered as the memory of the dream raked through her, “It was dark magic, darker than anything I’ve ever felt other than Zaharas. My soul… it was there… but I no longer had a body. I was trapped by the magic. I couldn’t do anything to stop it.”

“You think… the goddess… was…” Sylvain’s eyes were wide as he put a hand to his forehead.

“But none of that makes sense,” Felix’s tone was incredulous, “The goddess is supposed to sleep in her home in the Blue Sea Star. What is the entire church about if the goddess’ body was desecrated while it rested in the Holy Tomb? And how did Sothis end up inside you if her soul was trapped by some sort of magic?”

“That’s what I’m saying… I don’t know. Sothis didn’t have any memories when she spoke with me. Any memories she did have, were mine. She used to get these flashes of familiarity, like when we went to Zanado or around Flayn or Seteth, but that’s it. We don’t know why she was stuck with me, and we don’t know what created the bond. We were too busy trying to make it through all the shit that was going on to try and figure it out. I took her to Zanado to try and find answers, and we almost died when all of those monsters attacked.”

Felix murmured, mostly to himself, "That's what you were hiding that day. That's what you wouldn't tell us. It was Sothis." She nodded solemnly. Felix had been so upset with her for putting herself in danger, but she had been too afraid of what they would think if she told them of the girl living in her head.

After a moment of silence, Sylvain quietly asked, “What did you see in the Tomb just now?” 

She hugged her legs tighter and put her forehead against them as she whispered, “I can’t tell you.”

“Why?” Sylvain’s tone held so much concern, but she couldn’t tell them this. Not until she knew what it was she was telling them. The Tragedy of Duscur had impacted both of them too deeply to go into this lightheartedly. She needed to be sure of the information before she said anything to anyone. She really needed to talk to Gilbert.

She tried to keep her tone firm as she said, “I need time. I need to figure some things out before I can say anything.”

Felix’s tone was defensive as he said, “But it’s just us? You tell us everything, so why not this?” 

She considered it for a moment before hesitantly asking, “What do you guys know about Gilbert?”

Felix’s eyebrows drew together as growled, “The deadbeat? What about him?”

“Deadbeat?”

Sylvain sighed and elaborated, “He’s Annette’s father. Felix is not a fan of his.” Suddenly Annette’s actions when she first arrived made a lot more sense, as did Gilbert’s actions at Conand Tower. How had she missed it this long? Oh yeah… there were other things on her mind. 

“What else do you know?” 

She looked between them, and they exchanged a look before Felix explained, “I’ve known him most of my life. Back then he was known as Gustave, and he was part of King Lambert’s guard. He used to train Dimitri, Glenn, and I when we were young, and Glenn worked with him to protect the royal family until…” _Until the Tragedy of Duscur._

“Why is he a Knight of Seiros now?” 

Sylvain answered, “No one knows, not even Annette. Apparently, one day he just up and left her and her mother. She was looking for him for years, until she finally found him here.”

Felix growled, “That’s why he’s a fucking deadbeat.”

She understood the sentiment, and she fought off the flicker of anger that wanted to stomp down there and scream at him for his actions. However, a part of her wondered if it had anything to do with the things she had seen. If she was correct, Gilbert or Gustave or whatever his name was, was the only reason Dimitri was alive. He and Glenn had worked together to get the Crowned Prince away from the wreckage, but Glenn had made the ultimate sacrifice in staying back to fight.

“Why are you asking about him?” Sylvain asked curiously.

“I need to go and speak with him.” She told herself that she needed to move, that she needed to get out of bed and go and look for him, but her limbs would not comply. She was almost overwhelmed by the desire to stay in her bed the rest of the day and focus on trying not to think about the things she had seen, but she had so many questions. It was obvious that Sothis was trying to tell her something, but what?

“Why? I don’t understand why you won’t tell us what you saw. You’re…” Felix groaned and shook his head, “I hate seeing you like this.” His gaze was intense as he scooted closer to her. She couldn’t seem to look at him without feeling guilty. She averted her eyes and looked down. She noticed that he had dust on his armor from the battle, and it was getting all over the crisp white sheets. 

_Cyril is going to kill me._ She fought off a broken chuckle at the thought. 

“Hey.” Felix grabbed her chin and forced her face up toward his. It was the closest she had been to the swordsman since she woke up, which made the fact that she couldn’t look at him even worse. His voice had an edge as he said, “Look at me.”

She didn’t, instead she leaned her head forward until it rested against his collarbone as a small sob caused her shoulders to shake. His fingers wound into her hair as his other hand moved to support her lower back. She felt Sylvain move behind her, and she appreciated the warmth of him as her throat constricted further, making it harder to breathe.

She realized with startling clarity that she was scared. She was scared of how Felix was going to react if she told him. Things between them had been so strained since she had woken up. Would this be the thing that pushed him away for good? His brother was such a sensitive topic for him. How could she possibly tell him that she had just watched him die? That she alone knew what his last words were? That he had been afraid, but he had loved Dimitri enough to do anything to protect him, even if it meant leaving Felix and his parents behind? Would it put a further wedge between he and Dimitri? Would it make him turn away from her?

She raised a hand to loop two of her fingers into the collar of his light armor, wishing to keep him in place as she breathed out, “I don’t want to lose you. If I tell you this… I’m worried you might hate me.” The admission broke the dam that had been holding her feelings in. She began to sob as Glenn’s face flashed before her again, followed by the sound of Dimitri pleading to Sothis, and then the image of King Lambert’s gruesome corpse.

Sylvain wrapped his arms around her from behind, and the weight of him was like a tether, helping her begin to pull herself together. Felix’s hand began to lightly run through her hair as he whispered, “I don’t think I could ever hate you, Byleth. I…” he paused for a moment, “care about you.”

It was as tender an admission as she would ever get from Felix, and it made her unbeating heart feel like it was flying until it crashed into the fact that he didn’t know what she knew. He couldn’t know what was to come. There was no guarantee that he would still feel that way after she told him. She raised her head and cursed having emotions for the millionth time since waking up in that river. How she missed the days of being the Ashen Demon. That Byleth wouldn’t be nearly as overcome by all that she had seen, and the Byleth she was now envied that.

She moved until she could look between them and her voice shook as she said, “I need to talk to Gilbert first. Will you come back here tonight? Both of you? I think you should both hear this… we can decide what to do from there.” They would need to consider whether she should tell the rest of the Lions. Whether she should tell anyone, really. She would need help finding out who that man and woman were, and she would need help figuring out who the masked mages worked for, but in this moment, her friends came first.

“Sure.” Sylvain’s eyes flickered between her and Felix, lingering longer on the swordsman as his eyes filled with worry.

Felix didn’t speak, he only nodded. His shoulders were tense, and his eyes were full of unease as he stared at her. She couldn’t hold his gaze for long before she crawled off the bed, grabbed the Sword of the Creator, and left them behind.

She made her way to the Cardinal room first, and not finding Gilbert there, headed down to the first floor. She tried the Knight’s Hall, and when Gilbert was not there, she made the short trek over the bridge to the cathedral. When she pulled open the door, she heard Gilbert and Dimitri’s voices, and quickly realized they were fighting. She stepped behind a pillar, not wanting to interrupt, but also curious as to what they were saying.

“Your Highness, I understand that you wish to get to Enbarr as soon as possible, but you must consider the duty you have to your people.”

“My duty,” Dimitri’s voice was riddled with disdain, “is to the dead. It is to my father, to avenge his wrongful death. Nothing else matters.”

“Please, Your Highness, I know I cannot fully understand your feelings. However—”

Dimitri growled, “Enough, Gustave. I do not wish to discuss it further.”

But Gilbert pressed on. “I failed you, His Majesty, and Lady Patricia that day. It is something that will haunt me until my dying day.”

“Haunt you?!” Dimitri’s hysterical laughter echoed through the cathedral. He jeered, “Do you see them, as well? Do they scream at you, begging you for vengeance? Do they curse your shortcomings, and demand the blood of those responsible for their demise?”

“No, Your Highness.” Gilbert’s voice was filled with his shame, and it made even Dimitri pause in his tirade.

She could hear the pain in Dimitri’s voice as he asked, “Why did you save me that day? Why could you not allow me to die with the others?” It sent a chill through her, the echoes of his pleas to the goddess rang in her ears as well as his cries asking Glenn not to leave him.

Gilbert firmly stated, “It was my duty to guard His Majesty—”

The air stilled as Dimitri growled, “And you failed.” 

Gilbert was silent. After a few torturous moments, he bowed his head and said, “I did. That I was able to save you… is my only sense of salvation. Your Kingdom needs you alive, as do the people in this monastery. You must consider the value of your own life!”

Dimitri scoffed disdainfully and crossed his arms. “My life was taken from me long ago. Now, there is only vengeance.” The prince fixed Gilbert with a glare before storming out the door that led to the Goddess Tower. She suspected that was where Dimitri had been staying. She made a mental note to try and check later.

Gilbert watched him go, and as the door shut behind him, heaved a heavy sigh. His shoulders drooped as he stepped toward the rubble and clasped his hands together in front of his heart as he seemed to begin praying. The cathedral was completely silent as Byleth soundlessly walked down the aisle toward Gilbert.

“Do you pray often Gilbert,” he spun around in surprise, “or should I call you Gustave?”

“I…” he stared at her in wonder for a moment, before his features quickly smoothed out and he bowed, “I suppose there is no use hiding it from you. I have gone by Gilbert here at the monastery, but I was formerly known as Gustave when I worked as a knight for the Kingdom of Faerghus.”

“I’m aware, though it was only made known to me recently.” She crossed her arms behind her back. “May I ask you something?”

He bowed lowly and answered, “Of course, Your Grace.”

She shook her head and tried to keep her exasperation from her tone as she said, “Please, when we speak like this, I would ask that you call me Byleth.”

“I…” He shook his head and muttered, “as you wish.”

“Do you pray often, Gilbert?”

“Yes, I do.”

“Does it provide you a sense of peace?” She tilted her head to her fist and examined him.

He shook his head slowly and hesitantly said, “Peace is not what I pray for.”

“Atonement then?” Gilbert’s eyes blew wide as a mixture of surprise and fear contorted his features. “I’m assuming you know of my… situation… with the goddess.” She gestured to the cathedral around them, like it might explain anything. She was struggling to come up with the correct way to ask Gilbert the questions she needed to. Unfortunately, she was not well trained in the art of conversation, so being blunt was the only way she could think of.

He nodded. “Of course. I have heard the tales of the day that you slew your father’s killer, and how you were granted power by the goddess.” His eyes filled with a sense of reverence that left her feeling uneasy, but she pushed on.

“And you were there today, in the Holy Tomb.” 

Again, he nodded. “I saw a radiant power rain down and restore the Holy Tomb. It was truly a blessing to witness such a miracle. I thank you.”

“That is not all that happened.” He looked at her in confusion. She stepped closer and lowered her voice as she explained, “There is something I would like to discuss with you, but it would need to stay between us.”

“I am not sure how I could be of service to you, but if there is anything I can do—”

She shook her head and cut him off by saying, “These are questions only you can answer. I’m afraid that Dimitri’s memories of the day of the Tragedy may have been tainted by the trauma that he went through, and I’m not sure how much he truly remembers.”

“I…” he stepped back as his body began to tremble, “how could you know that I was there?”

She stepped forward and placed a hand on his arm. She softly explained, “I saw it, Gilbert. You were there that day. You were the one to drag Dimitri away, and you were one of the last to see Glenn Fraldarius alive, weren’t you?”

He immediately dropped to his knees and clasped his hands together as he cried, “Please, forgive me! I should have been there sooner. I should have defended His Majesty and Lady Patricia. I failed in my duty, and I failed to change the events that transpired afterward. Please! Forgive me!”

“Gilbert…” she grabbed his hands and pulled the pious knight back to his feet, “as far as I am concerned, there is nothing to forgive.” He didn’t believe her. Fearful reverence still filled his expression as she tried to soothe him. “Tell me what you meant when you mentioned the events that transpired afterward.”

Gilbert bowed his head and couldn’t seem to look into her eyes as he said, “I failed to convince the Lords of the Kingdom that the people of Duscur were not to blame for the Tragedy.” His voice cracked as he whispered, “All of those lives… all of that destruction… the blame rests on my shoulders.”

Her eyes widened as it finally sunk in. There was no denying it, the vision was real. There was no longer any doubt in her mind that what she had seen was how things did, indeed, transpire. “There weren’t any people of Duscur there. There were only mages with masks shaped like the beak of a bird.”

“You are correct,” Gilbert’s head was still bowed as he said, “You are truly a messenger of the goddess. I am not worthy to stand before you.”

“No! Please,” she pleaded as she grabbed his arm to keep him from walking away, “I need to find out who was responsible. I think Sothis was trying to tell me, but the vision, or whatever you want to call it, was interrupted. Do you know why the Lords of the Kingdom thought it was the people of Duscur?”

“When knights from the Kingdom were sent to retrieve the bodies of the fallen, there were corpses of Duscur warriors littered through the wreckage. Some of the western Lords firmly believed that all of Duscur should pay for their crimes. I tried to tell them that I didn’t see any Duscur warriors that day, but they would not listen. They said I was confused, and that I wasn’t there at the start of the attack so I couldn’t possibly know who was to blame. They wanted justice for their fallen king, and I failed to give them information other than the fact that they wore masks.”

She whispered, “And you’ve been carrying that guilt around ever since.” He nodded and she saw a tear trail down his cheek. “Gilbert, you are not at fault in this.”

“I may not be the one who killed His Majesty, but I was not there to defend him, as was my duty. As such, I am still guilty.”

“No,” she stepped forward and took his hand, and held it firmly when he tried to pull away, “you are the only reason that Dimitri is alive. He would have died with Glenn that day if you had not arrived when you did.”

“Glenn should have been the one to escape with His Highness, but…” he bowed his head and whispered so softly she almost didn’t hear it, “I was afraid.”

“I do not speak for the goddess,” his head slowly raised to look at her as she continued, “but I do not feel that you are guilty of the things you think you are. But… if you truly wish for a way to atone… perhaps you could help me find the people who are actually responsible.” His eyes widened, and she saw a flicker of hope that pulled at her unbeating heart. “Dimitri is convinced that it is Edelgard, but she was a child herself when it happened. However, I know she was working with them during the events at Remire, and after my father’s death. I believe this group may be another threat to Fodlan’s peace, and I plan to stop them and end this war. Do you think you can help me?”

He dropped to one knee and crossed an arm over his chest. “On what remains of my honor, I will not fail you, Your Grace.”

“Please,” she shook her head and begged, “do not act as if I am some holy being. I am only trying to make things right.”

“You have given me a path toward atonement. The weight of that day will forever rest upon my shoulders, but if I can help you find these monsters, and see His Highness take the throne, I feel that perhaps I could…” he shook his head and said, “Forgive me. I should not place my burdens upon your shoulders.”

“Please, stand up.” She, again, pulled the knight to his feet and looked him firmly in the eye as she said, “Are your feelings of guilt the reason that you left your family?” His eyes dropped to the ground and she took it as a sign of admission. “Speak with your daughter, Gilbert. She deserves to have her father.”

“I do not deserve—”

“No,” she raised a hand to cut him off, “I have already told you that I do not feel you are guilty. However, what your daughter deserves is a completely separate matter. War is dangerous, you and I know that better than most. I do not want there to come a day when you realize you should have spoken with her sooner.” She stared directly into his eyes as he processed what she had said. 

“There is nothing I could do to repay the kindness that you have shown me, Your Grace.” Gilbert bowed deeply, and she bit back an exasperated sigh.

“Perhaps you could help me with some combat training? You certainly have a lot of experience.” She tried her best to smile in an attempt to lighten the heavy mood that had surrounded them.

Gilbert gave a half chuckle, more of a heavy breath than a laugh, but she would take all she could get. “I’m afraid that I would have more to learn from you. I was only recently made a Knight of Seiros, and as such did not know him very well, but the few times I did spar with him, your father’s skills were unmatched. As one trained by him, I’m sure your capabilities are the same. However, if you wish it, I will teach you all that I know.”

“Thank you,” she nodded her head and smiled a little wider than before, “I look forward to it. For now, I must go. There is much I need to do.”

“Of course, Your Grace.” Gilbert bowed deeply, AGAIN, and she tried not to roll her eyes as she turned to walk away. He would always be overly formal, and of course telling him all that she did was only going to make it worse, but hopefully he would help her in the long journey ahead.

She moved toward the doors, and spotted lavender out of the corner of her eye off to the right. _Shit._ She calmly walked outside, and then quickly sprinted to the right, down and then up the stairs, assuming he would try to sneak out the side door. She muffled her steps as she got closer, and just as she had guessed, Yuri came slinking out the door. His eyes widened ever so slightly as they landed on her, but he kept his features guarded.

“How much did you hear?” She crossed her arms and moved her weight to the side.

Yuri chuckled effortlessly and ran a hand through his hair. “It’s not often I get caught.”

She growled, “How much?”

He stared at her for a while, his eyes sharp and calculating, until he finally said, “There’s something I need to show you. Come with me.” He walked past her, down the stairs and then toward the bridge, and she followed. When they reached the other side of the bridge, he reached out his hand toward her. She hesitantly took it, and when she did, they warped away.

She opened her eyes to the tunnels of Abyss, just as she had the night before. She joked, “Is walking too straining for you?”

He replied, “I’m not sure if you want anyone else down here. Warping allows me to keep the entrance hidden.”

“Why would I care if anyone else came down here?”

In an easy tone he answered, “Rhea was firmly against it, so I felt it best to be cautious.”

She sighed and shook her head as they walked. “I’ve already told you, I’m nothing like Rhea.”

“I’m starting to realize that.” Yuri hummed softly and added, “I heard everything that you said. I was following you after the theatrics that happened in the Holy Tomb.” When she glared over at him, he raised an eyebrow and firmly said, “Can you really blame me?”

She conceded to his point and said, “I’m sorry. I know that probably wasn’t what you were expecting.”

That earned a mirthless chuckle before he said, “I always thought the whole “vessel for the goddess” thing was a bit much, but now I see that there is more to the story.” He lightly touched her arm and in a softer tone said, “After all the power you showed today… well let’s just say I don’t fight for the losing side.”

“It’s not always like that,” she warned.

“But you felt the magic in the Tomb, and you seemed to know that those figures were going to appear before they did. I don’t know how you do the things you do, but I’m impressed either way. You should know I don’t just say things like that.”

She blushed under his heated gaze and he chuckled, a real one this time. “A master of the battlefield, but so easily flustered by compliments. You are quite the puzzle, friend.”

“And you aren’t?” He didn’t reply to that one, just waved his hand and led her into a room she hadn’t seen the night before. It was lined on all sides by books, and initially it looked smaller than the monastery’s library, but she quickly realized that was wrong. As she walked further into the room, she realized that there were upper and lower levels that were also filled with books.

She asked, “A library? You wanted to show me a library?”

“Not much of a reader, then?” He walked up the set of stairs in front of them, and she followed close behind.

“There wasn’t much time or necessity as a mercenary. I’m fortunate my father saw fit to teach me to read and write.”

“Ah! Jeralt the Blade Breaker. It’s unfortunate I never got to meet him. His crew was known for being at least halfway decent, unlike the cutthroat mercenary groups that plague Fodlan.”

Her throat constricted ever so slightly at the turn in conversation, but she was able to keep her voice steady as she said, “He was a good man, though he had his secrets.”

“Don’t we all?” Yuri stopped at the top of the next set of stairs and waved his hand. She heard a faint sound, almost like glass breaking, before a doorway suddenly appeared. When he noticed her surprise, he smiled mischievously and said, “I have to keep people out of my makeshift office somehow.”

A desk took up most of the space, though a dingy couch sat in the corner covered in books and tomes. As she looked around, Yuri began by saying, “After the group of masked mages took some of the people of Abyss, I took some of my best men and tried to follow them, while Constance, Hapi, and Balthus stayed here to guard the people who were left behind.” He walked past her and sat on the couch. His posture would look easy to anyone unobservant, but she saw the tension in his jaw and around his eyes.

“We were able to track them through the Empire’s border and followed them due west. We were able to keep hidden for two days, until we reached the edge of Arundel territory…” The name triggered something in the back of her mind, but she wasn’t sure where she had heard it before. “There, we were ambushed by demonic beasts and masked mages.” His tone was like ice as he added, “I was the only one who survived.”

All she could think to say was, “I’m so sorry.” She could only imagine what she would feel if it had been the people she cared about, on her orders. 

“I don’t tell you this to garner sympathy,” his expression was guarded, but she saw a hint of the anger that lay beneath it, “I tell you this because, ever since then, I have been gathering what little information I could on the group of masked mages that seems to be working with the Empire. I heard what you said to that knight. I already knew about Remire, who do you think informed Rhea? I also know about the Emperor’s time as the Flame Emperor and all of the events she popped up in. Rhea was breathing down my neck to get any sort of information, but Edelgard was thorough in covering any tracks.”

He sighed heavily and relaxed further into the couch. “My point is, if you are going after these people, I want in.” She stared at him blankly for a moment, unsure of what to think. Could it all be connected? Her father had wondered who was pulling the strings before he died. He had been so certain that all of the tragedies were linked, somehow. Could the events of Duscur, the events at the monastery, and the kidnapped people from Abyss, really all be because of the same group? Who were these people? How had they escaped notice so long? Not for the first time, she wondered how Edelgard could possibly align herself with them, knowing all that they had done. She knew Edelgard was ambitious to a fault, but this?

“I found this,” Yuri pulled her from her musings as he handed her a small book, or rather, a stack of parchment that was loosely bound, “it was in the shadow library. Things trickle in here from time to time. Seteth is very strict on what he allows to hit the shelves of the monastery’s library, and a lot of the rejects end up here. Most of the time that means it’s erotica, or some other lewd form of fiction, but every once and a while it’s things that the church doesn’t want widely known. I’m not sure who salvaged this one. Knowing Seteth, he probably tried to burn it.”

He leaned over and turned a few pages before tapping his finger on one, “Read this.”

It was horribly burnt, only leaving a small section of the paper behind, but it read:

**_Item 49, Part 18_ **

**_…the Tragedy of Duscur, after which more members of the Western Church are strongly criticizing the Central Church. Among them are those who claim the incident in Duscur was the work of the shadowed order of the Knights of Seiros. It seems a confrontation over the dogma’s legitimacy is inevitable. Soon, the child of House Gaspard…_ **

Fury built in her chest and she growled, “Ashe’s brother was executed by the church for supposedly being involved in the Tragedy of Duscur. Lonato started a rebellion over it, and Rhea made me take Ashe and the Lions to face him.” She hated the memory of that day. It hung over her head like a dark cloud. Rhea’s warning that it would teach the children that it was foolish to point their blades at the church rang through her ears.

“I know.” Yuri’s glossed lips were set in a thin line as he nodded slowly. “It was before I was as… informed… as I am now, but due to my previous connection to House Rowe I knew what was going on. I knew Christophe. He wasn’t a bad guy, not like me, but he was plenty gullible.”

“You think that he got caught up in it somehow…” She tilted her head to her fist and thought for a moment. “They took advantage of Lonato’s grief, and encouraged him to start the rebellion. Lonato had a letter on him after we killed him that discussed a plot to assassinate Lady Rhea. Whoever he was working with in the Western Church must have planted it on him to create the diversion they needed to slip into the Holy Mausoleum.” 

“But you cut them off when you caught on to their little plan.” Yuri nodded and put a hand to his chin. “Don’t you find it odd that the Western Church members were the ones who cried foul after the Tragedy of Duscur, and those same Lords all swore fealty to Cornelia and Edelgard without so much as a fight?”

“There was also a rebellion amongst the western lords two years before I came here. Felix told me about it.” It was the same day Dimitri first showed signs of “the boar”. 

All of the events of that year were beginning to connect within her mind. Had Edelgard been the one who hired the bandits to try and kill Dimitri and Claude, or had it been this shadow group? She was assuming they had ties within the western church, which gave them the information they needed in order to cause the Tragedy of Duscur. What was their aim? To cause discord in Fodlan? To take credibility away from the Central Church? 

There was the Holy Mausoleum, then Flayn’s kidnapping when they found Kronya. This group somehow knew the value of Flayn’s blood, and they implanted Kronya as a spy within the Officer’s Academy by disguising her appearance with some form of magic. Kronya then killed her father after they had stopped her mission of turning students into demonic beasts… or had they been after her because of the Sword of the Creator the whole time? Solon tried to trap her in the Darkness of Zaharas that day in the Sealed Forest, and before she killed him, he said that someone named Thales would finish their work. Was Thales the mage that blew her off the cliff with that blast of magic?

She was pulled out of her thoughts again when Yuri said, “You should read this one.” He flipped back to the beginning of the booklet and placed a finger on the page.

_**Item 18 Part 5** _   
_**… the Faerghus Rebellion. I harbor doubts about the army Loog has raised. How did he recruit soldiers without raising suspicions in the Empire? How did he acquire those mysterious weapons, so like the Heroes’ Relics? What is the true identity of Pan, the tactician rumored to have been integral to Loog’s victories? And Those Who Slither in the Dark…** _

“Loog? How old is this report?” She asked incredulously. 

“That’s the same question I had. And did you see the mention of Pan? He’s revered as one of the greatest tacticians in history, but hardly anything is known about him. Some will tell you it’s because he was so humble,” Yuri rolled his eyes and snorted, “but I don’t buy that. And they mention a group called Those Who Slither in the Dark. Who were they?”

“Do you think the same group could still be threatening peace in Fodlan? Would that even be possible?” She turned to Yuri with wide eyes, and he shrugged. The implications of that were huge. It would mean this group was involved in the reason that Fodlan is made up by three nations today. It would mean that they have been stirring up trouble for centuries.

Yuri’s tone was ominous as he muttered, “Who knows?”

 _Probably Seteth. Seteth always knows._ Out loud all she said was, “I need to go. Can I take this with me if I promise to bring it back?”

“You are going to confront Seteth, aren’t you?” Yuri crossed his arms and stared at her critically. “You have the look of someone who’s about to pick a fight.”

She angrily admitted, “I am. If these were in his hands, and he was trying to cover it up, we have a lot to talk about.” 

Yuri stared at her for a moment before shaking his head. “If you show that to Seteth, there’s a possibility he’ll walk right down here and burn all that I have. I can’t risk that, so everything needs to stay here. The church has been covering things up for centuries, friend. You can’t tackle this like a mercenary.”

She reluctantly accepted that what he said was true and handed him back the booklet. “That’s fair. I see now, why you’re so careful around those from the church.”

“You say “those from the church” as if you aren’t one of them.” 

Yuri’s stare was direct and analytical, and she made sure to meet it as she replied, “That’s because I don’t think of myself as one of them.”

His tone was falsely light as he said, “Interesting, considering you are the acting archbishop.”

“I never asked for any of this. There are things about me and my past that you don’t know. There are a lot of things about me that I don’t even know,” his gaze became sharper if that was even possible, “and Rhea is the only one who has the answers I’m looking for. Fodlan’s peace is important to me, because it’s what the people I care for are fighting for, and that was what Sothis wanted before we became one. I’m going to end this war, I’m going to find this group, and I’m going to keep as many people alive as I possibly can in the process.”

Yuri was quiet for a long time, and she fought off the urge to fidget under his heavy gaze. Eventually he somewhat incredulously said, “I’m trying to understand why I believe you.” She shrugged and he threw his head back with a melodic laugh. “You are something else, friend. Something tells me it’s going to be quite the adventure working by your side.”

“My path hasn’t been an easy one, but neither has yours.” She patted his arm and smirked as she added, “I think you’ll be just fine.”

“Cheeky now, are you?” His smile was sly as he walked over and set the booklet on his desk. “I’ll continue to comb through the library and see if I can find anything else that mentions that group. Those Who Slither in the Dark… quite the mouthful, don’t you think?” He turned and winked at her.

“Would you like some help with that? I’ve got someone who would absolutely love this place.” She raised an arm to motion down toward the library.

“Let me guess... The sleepy mage, right? He’s already talked my ears off about my Relic.” Yuri lifted his hand and she took a moment to look over the bracelet again. “You would have to tell him about what it is we’re looking for. Can he be discreet?”

He had better be able to, Lin already has some of her secrets. “I hope so. I’ll try to bring it up with him. I think it’s something he would be interested in, and I know he doesn’t want to be involved with the fighting in this war. Besides, I’m sure he’ll find books on Crests and Relics as well, and that’s his real interest.”

Yuri shrugged. “Alright. If you’re okay with it, you can show him the way down here.”

“I’ll hold off on confronting Seteth. You are right, I doubt he would tell me anything right now anyway, and if we get a good enough team of people on it, we may be able to go around him entirely.” She sighed heavily, plagued by worry about what she should do about the advisor. At this point, she didn’t even think she could trust him. “I should go. It’s been a long day.” She turned toward the door and Yuri walked up beside her.

“I’ll walk you out.” 

As they walked through the tunnels Yuri said, “So… Felix and Sylvain…”

“What about them?” She looked over at the Ashen Wolves leader and noticed he was staring.

“What is the deal there? They are both VERY protective of you, especially guard dog.” 

She scoffed lightly and shook her head. “I’ve known them both for a long time. I met them through, what would best be described as, dramatic circumstances. Felix was my first friend, and though Sylvain took a lot longer to warm up to me, he’s become one of my best friends. They have both become a lot more protective since my dad died. I think it’s mostly because I don’t have anyone else.”

Byleth didn’t miss Yuri’s coy tone as he asked, “And both of them are just friends?”

She frowned slightly and turned her head to look at him. “Just friends, doesn’t feel like the right way to phrase it, but yes.” She stared into lavender eyes as she asked, “Why?”

He raised his eyebrows as a smirk curled his lips. He crooned, “Oh, no reason.” 

They reached the entrance and Yuri grabbed her hand before pressing a kiss to the back of it. His voice was low as he purred, “Come and see me again soon, friend.” He winked and then vanished in a beam of light. She idly wondered if she would ever get used to that.

It was already getting late, and she was absolutely starving. She walked in the direction of the dining hall and waved as she passed a group of knights. There was so much that she should be doing at the moment. She should go and check in with Seteth to see how the defenses were coming. She should talk to Felix and Sylvain about what she saw in the Holy Tomb. She should help to work on rebuilding the monastery and hunting down supplies to help feed and clothe their army. However, in this moment, she needed to take a moment to breathe. Otherwise, she felt she just might explode.

“Professor!” Flayn and Annette waved from a table as she entered the dining room. She smiled softly and waved back before walking over to grab a small ration of food. More dried meat and berries. She should really look into going fishing. She should also see how things are going in the greenhouse. She wondered what it would take to get merchants out here quicker, not that they would want civilians around before the attack. 

The attack. That reminded her that she needed to make sure they had all of the necessary weapons and armor to keep everyone safe. She should probably carve out some extra time to run formations with all of her former students and the Ashen Wolves, not to mention running through drills with the knights. 

Her spiraling train of thought was interrupted when Cyril called, “Professor!” from the door. She turned in his direction, food in hand, and he said, “I’ve been looking everywhere for ya. Seteth needs ya in the Cardinal’s room.”

She fought off a pout as she longingly glanced over at Flayn and Annette. She had really been hoping that she would have a chance to sit and talk with them for a while. “Alright, I’ll go.”

She walked into the Cardinal’s Room to find Seteth, Catherine, Shamir, and Gilbert standing around the table, with the chest they had recovered from the Holy Tomb resting on top of it. They all looked up at the sound of her footsteps, and they each watched her carefully as she walked over to stand with them.

“There is no one with you?” Seteth looked at her in concern, and she fought off the urge to scowl.

“I can walk from the dining hall to the Cardinal Room without an escort, Seteth.”

“We cannot take any chances, Byleth. You know this.” Seteth sighed softly and pinched the bridge of his nose. He motioned toward the chest and said, “We wished for you to be here when we opened it, since it was left for you by Lady Rhea.”

“Very well,” she waved a hand toward the chest, “go ahead.” She crossed her arms and watched as Shamir picked the lock and opened the chest. Inside laid a large shield with the Crest of Seiros engraved on it, as well as several large bullions, a few goddess rings, and several elixirs.

“Lady Rhea…” Catherine’s voice was a reverent whisper as she looked over the plethora of objects in the chest. 

“That,” Seteth tone sounded almost hesitant as he pointed to the shield, “is the shield that Seiros herself wielded in the battle against Nemesis. It is a highly revered artifact of the church, but it seems Lady Rhea has left it for you to wield.” He turned his gaze to her, and solemnly said, “It would be invaluable in battle. It is said that it was blessed by the goddess herself. It heals those who carry it, and provides strength to those who have faith in the goddess.”

“There is no one more worthy of such an item.” Gilbert reverently added as he bowed to her.

Byleth was hesitant as she said, “I don’t think that I should—”

“You would turn down a gift from Lady Rhea herself?” Catherine turned on her, a fire in her eyes. This was always going to be a point of contention between herself and the Holy Knight.

“It would raise morale among the troops,” Shamir pragmatically supplied with a hand on her chin, “The people of Fodlan go nuts for things like this. It could rally more support.”

“Shamir is correct,” Seteth confirmed somewhat reluctantly, probably not liking the spirit behind it but acknowledging its merit all the same, “Wielding Seiros’ Shield and the Sword of the Creator in battle makes you the very picture of the goddess’ chosen.”

She somewhat sarcastically said, “My transformation five years ago, along with the fact that I’ve woken up after five years doesn’t do that enough?” She sobered somewhat after a sharp glare from Seteth. 

She knew this was important to those that were pious, she just didn’t consider herself one of them. She believed in Sothis the person… or being… or whatever she was. However, she didn’t necessarily have faith in the Church of Seiros. From the stories she had heard, the Sothis of old was very different from the one who dwelt in her head. Sothis only wanted what was best for the people around them. She didn’t care where they were from, and she certainly didn’t care if they worshiped her. The Church of Seiros control over Fodlan, or rather, Rhea’s control over Fodlan, was disconcerting to her. Especially after all she had just spoken of with Yuri. 

She reluctantly said, “I’ll wear it in battle. Seteth, you can take the bullions for supplies, and I’ll distribute the Goddess Rings and the elixirs among my former students. This is definitely something that will help a lot in the war effort. Rhea really pulled through for us.”

That seemed to appease the others in the room, though Shamir was watching her carefully. She, more than others, knew how complicated things were between her and Rhea due to what had happened after her father’s death. Shamir was one of the only people who wouldn’t balk at her lack of piety. After all, it was a trait they shared.

Seteth nodded. “As you wish, Byleth. I will make sure it is put to the best use possible.” 

She asked, “Is there anything else I can do to help right now?”

Seteth nodded slowly. “I’d like to speak with you privately in my office.” 

She grabbed the trunk and made the short trek to his office with only minimal difficulty. (The chest was fucking heavy with all that gold. Her father would have salivated over it.) Once they reached the office, Seteth began by saying, “I would like to discuss what happened in the Holy Tomb.”

She held his gaze as she sat down in one of the chairs in front of his desk. “What about it?”

He hesitated, perhaps not expecting that reaction, but persisted. “I would like to apologize for interrupting whatever was happening. Your friends were concerned, and I thought that perhaps…” he trailed off as he severed their eye contact.

She deadpanned, “You thought that perhaps Sothis was returning to Fodlan while kicking me out of my own body in the process.” He cleared his throat, flustered by her words. “You should know that I know all about your conversation with Rhea after she appointed me her successor.”

He grimaced as he muttered, “Flayn.”

“Yes. It’s too bad your daughter has an actual fondness for me. She heard what Rhea said and ran to my room in tears to tell me.”

“Byleth…”

She cut him off. “To be fair, she also told me you said you couldn’t support it, so thanks for not feeling good about my potential possession. It’s kind of you.”

To his credit, he did look hurt as he pleaded, “Please…”

She cut him off again. “I don’t want to discuss what happened in the Holy Tomb with you. Is there anything else you need?”

His tone was placating as he put his hands out in front of him. “Byleth, I understand that you are… upset…”

She fought off the urge to punch him. Instead, she raised an eyebrow and said, “Upset?”

“Yes. A lot has happened to you over the last few days, and I know you must feel overwhelmed, but I assure you that I am here to help you.” 

“You can help me with the war, you can run the church for all I care, but you’ve made it clear you don’t wish to help me figure out what I am. I know you know something about my vision about Cichol, but you are choosing not to tell me. Flayn made that obvious enough. Why should I tell you about this one if you’re just going to continue to withhold information?”

“So, you did indeed have a vision? A message from the goddess?” 

She nodded as she gritted her teeth. “I did.”

He hesitantly said, “It must have been bad. I don’t think I have ever seen you in such a state.”

“It was.” She thought she saw his face pale slightly as his hands clenched into fists at his sides. “Is there anything else I can do for you, Seteth?”

They held eye contact for several moments until he bowed his head and murmured, “No. I can take care of everything else for the evening.”

“Thank you. Have a good night.” 

She turned to leave, but paused when he called, “Please, keep someone with you. The last sighting may have only been Yuri, but there may still be spies in our midst. Whatever you may think of me, I hope you know that I could not bear it if something were to happen to you.”

An idea struck her, and she turned back to the chest and dug out all but two of the large bullions, setting the rest on Seteth’s desk. “I’m taking these two and I’m hiring a guard. Will that appease you?”

“A guard?” When she gave no further information he nodded and said, “That should suffice.”

“Well then… Have a good night.” Seteth didn’t say anything else as she walked out with the chest.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Gilbert's supports with Dimitri are straight up DEVASTATING. You can't tell me that Dimitri isn't dealing with suicidal thoughts through the entirety of his adolescence and into adulthood, including during his "feral" phase. Poor boy needs a hug, and now more than ever Byleth wants to give it to him. However... boy has been kinda mean lately. Maybe he needs his space. Maybe.
> 
> I always found it interesting that Gilbert doesn't hate Dedue like others seemed to, so I fleshed out the details of that in this fic. Gilbert tried to explain that Duscur wasn't involved, but he was a crestless knight who was easily overruled by the Lords of the western part of the Kingdom of Faerghus who had TWSITD whispering evil sweet nothings in their ears. (More will come up about that after the Lions retake Fhirdiad, so I won't share too much of my headcanon right now.
> 
> Gilbert is an... interesting... character. I have never really liked him much. (It may be my daddy issues talking. I'm not afraid to say I'm biased on the matter.) I didn't like how one note his guilt felt, so I wanted to add the extra level of the fact that he feels the genocide that happened in Duscur is his fault. Not only did he fail in his sworn duty to protect the king, he also failed to stop the annihilation of an entire race of people. That's enough to make anyone run away to the church and try to seek atonement. Just... don't leave your family behind, ya deadbeat.
> 
> Seteth has been KICKED OUT of the trust circle, my friends. Will he be let back in? Who knows. *shrugs* I originally wrote it as Byleth completely going off on him, but I didn't feel that was what she would do. She really is relying on him a lot when it comes to the war and the church, she just no longer trusts him to help her with her personal stuff. Homeboy is going to wrestle with that for a while.
> 
> Next chapter is going to be the tell all with Felix. How is our favorite swordsman going to react? *Sobs because the angst hurts and he literally just gave her the first hug since she woke up and now everything is RUINED!!!!* I just want my babies to be happy, but there is still SO MUCH GROUND TO COVER.


	12. I'm Reaching Out to You... Can You Hear My Call?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Chapter title inspired by "Lay Me Down" by Sam Smith featuring John Legend because I love that version.
> 
> Byleth tells all, and Felix breaks down. Sylvain tries his best to pick up the pieces, but will it be enough?

~Felix~

“What do you think she saw?” Sylvain’s tone was quiet, hesitant, as he moved closer to Felix.

“Something she thinks I’m going to hate her for.” It hurt that she would even think that, but what would he expect? Everyone thought he hated them. Just like everyone thought he was standoffish and angry all the time, and for good reason. Had he even had a rational conversation with Byleth since she’d miraculously come back from the dead? One that didn’t end with him screaming or storming off? He had to clear his throat before adding, “I’ve never seen her like that. She wouldn’t even look at me.”

Sylvain was silent for a long time, until Felix finally turned to look at the redhead. He was staring, his eyes filled to the brim with anxiety. Felix snapped, “Stop looking at me like that.”

“Like what, Fe?” Again, with the soft tone. Again, with the big honey eyes and the concern. 

“Just stop!” He got to his feet and moved around the room, picking up pieces of armor as he went. He piled everything neatly on the tea table on the side of the room before looking around. He had never been in the archbishop’s suite before, for obvious reasons. 

“You slept with her last night.” It wasn’t a question. It the only way Sylvain would have known that Byleth had a nightmare.

Sylvain’s features pinched before he hung his head. “I slept in here, yes. I didn’t…” he waved his hand awkwardly, “do that.”

“Why?”

Sylvain’s voice was quiet again, and he still wasn’t looking at him. “Why what?” 

“Why haven’t you?” It came out barbed as the tightness that had settled in his stomach when Byleth cried into his shoulder climbed up through his chest and into his throat. “This is what you’ve always wanted.”

Sylvain chuckled mirthlessly as a darkness crept into his features. His voice was bitterly sarcastic as he drawled, “You’re right. All I’ve ever wanted is to sleep with Byleth.”

Felix barked, “Don’t put words in my mouth.”

“I know you think I’m some…” Sylvain stood up with a huff of frustration, “depraved human being. And you’re right, I am. I constantly fuck everything up, and that’s on me. But if you honestly think that I’m going to jump right into bed with By—”

“But you did!” He pointed toward the bed. “You just said—”

“She’s scared to be alone.” Felix snapped his mouth shut with an audible click of his teeth as Sylvain walked over to stand in front of him. His honey eyes looked almost, fragile. “She’s scared of sleeping. She begged me to stay with her last night because she was afraid. Of course, I slept over. I’ll do whatever I need to if it will make her feel safe. I’m trying to be there for her, Fe. I’ve let her down enough as it is. I was going to tell you but…”

He snapped, “But what?”

“But I didn’t think you’d want to hear from me. You’ve been avoiding talking to me ever since you…” Sylvain trailed off again as his eyes became glassy. He quickly turned away as he ran a hand through his hair. 

Felix scoffed and crossed his arms. “I’m not your keeper. Sleep with whomever you want. I don’t care.” Sylvain’s shoulders hunched and Felix turned away, not wanting to look at him anymore.

He almost missed Sylvain’s whispered, “You said you did.” The next few silent moments were suffocating as Felix stared at the door. “You said you cared.”

Felix clicked his tongue, and with as much poison as he could muster spat, “If you’re looking for care and affection, you’re speaking to the wrong person.” He made his way toward the door as he called, “This conversation is pointless. I’m going to train.” 

He told himself to be satisfied with the fact that Sylvain didn’t make a sound as he exited. 

He trained until the sky above him was dark. He stumbled to the baths, completely exhausted, and then grabbed some food before heading back up to the third floor. He couldn’t shake his feelings of apprehension, no matter what he did. What could possibly make Byleth act the way she had? What could make her think he would hate her? What did Gilbert, of all people, have to do with it?

He knocked on the door to the archbishop’s quarters and it was immediately pulled open by Byleth. Her lower lip was swollen from how much she had obviously been biting at it and her eyes immediately flickered away as she pulled the door open. It seemed she still couldn’t look at him.

He asked, “Did you talk to the deadbeat?” as he stepped into the room. A quick scan told him that Sylvain hadn’t arrived yet, and he worried for the briefest moment that he wouldn’t come because of the things that he had said earlier. He quickly shook the thought away. Sylvain would come because Byleth asked him to, nothing Felix could do would stop that.

“I did,” Byleth sighed and ran a hand through her hair, “he’s… complicated. I understand why you call him that, but if you knew why…” she stopped and shook her head, “I’ll tell you in a second. Do you know if Sylvain is coming?”

Felix snorted derisively and stated, “You asked him to, so I’m sure he will.”

The statement earned him a sideways glance, the first since he had walked into the room, before she quickly looked away again. Felix opened his mouth to demand to know why she was acting so weird, but was cut off by a knock. Byleth quickly walked over and threw the door open, and Sylvain walked in.

“Should we sit in the office?” Byleth looked between them quickly, before walking to her travel pack that laid on a lounger at the foot of the bed. She rummaged through it for a moment, before pulling out a bottle of liquor. “We can see if this is still… not terrible?” She chuckled breathily before she pulled off the cap and took a swig. She wrinkled her nose slightly at the taste, but obviously didn’t mind it too much because she took it with her as she walked toward a door on the left side of the room. He and Sylvain shared a glance before following her into an office-type sitting room. She paced in front of one of the couches as they walked in, and she waved for them to come and sit down. She took another swig before holding it out to him. “Want some?”

“You’re being weird.” He crossed his arms, not taking the drink, and she frowned. 

“It’s been a weird day,” was her easy reply. She took another swig before holding it out to Sylvain, who looked at it warily before taking a swig.

He wheezed, “Goddess… that’s awful!” He coughed raggedly as he banged a fist against his chest.

“I used it whenever I stitched myself up,” she shrugged easily, “Jeralt used to say that all that matters is that it gets the job done.”

“Sir Jeralt was crazy, then.” 

Felix saw the barest hint of a smile as she shook her head. “I guess he was.”

Felix had had enough of all this. The apprehension felt like an itch beneath his skin, crawling all over him. He barked, “You’re stalling. Will you just tell us already?!”

“Sit,” she sternly said as she pointed to the couch. She began pacing again as Sylvain pushed him toward the couch. He reluctantly sank down to sitting and crossed his arms impatiently. The more she paced, the more uneasy he became. She stopped and turned to look at them, the same mask of neutrality that she used in the meeting this morning was screwed into each of her features. She took a deep breath and said, “I saw the Tragedy of Duscur while we were in the Holy Tomb.”

Sylvain’s hand slowly moved to rest on his knee, but Felix hardly noticed. He was busy staring at Byleth in complete confusion. “Did you just say… the Tragedy?”

“I did.” She nodded once as she crossed her arms behind her back. “I needed to speak with Gilbert to confirm the things that I saw but… it’s true.”

His voice was like an echo as he said, “Why would you have to speak to the deadbeat?”

“Because he was there that day. He saw… most… of what I saw. He’s the one who dragged Dimitri away after…” she dropped her eyes to the floor and quickly stopped talking. 

_Glenn._ It all made sense now, why she wouldn’t look at him, and why she was acting so weird. A weight settled over Felix’s chest and he had to fight to take his next breath. Sylvain’s hand moved from his leg to his back as he bent forward to rest his elbows on his knees. He was quiet for a long time, and it seemed that both Byleth and Sylvain were willing to give him whatever time he needed because neither of them said anything.

Finally, he breathed out, “What did you see?” 

“Are you sure you want to know?” Byleth was watching him carefully when he raised his head to look at her.

He told the truth. “No.” Byleth dropped her eyes back to the floor as she began to nibble on her lower lip again. “Why would you even see that? I don’t understand. Why?” His mind didn’t know where to settle. 

“Because the people of Duscur weren’t responsible.” Sylvain’s hand stilled on his back as his whole body became tense. 

Sylvain whispered, like they weren’t the only ones in the room, “Then… who was?”

Byleth took a deep breath before answering, “Mages in masks shaped like a bird’s beak. They were just like the ones we ran into during your year at the Academy.” There was an overwhelming silence again as they all processed this information. Eventually, Byleth added, “I spoke to Gilbert. He tried to tell the Lords of the Kingdom what he saw, but he was overruled. I think he was likely silenced by those that were being influenced by this group and whomever they were working for.”

He raised his head as he muttered, “You think… lords from the Kingdom were responsible for King Lambert’s death… for Glenn?” 

She flinched at his brother’s name, and a cold wash of dread rushed through him as it seemed to confirm his fears. He stood on shaking legs as he stammered, “You saw Glenn.” She nodded her head slowly, staring at the floor instead of at him. His voice rose slightly as he called, “What did you see?”

She shook her head as she hesitantly murmured, “I don’t… it’s not going to…”

He yelled without really meaning to, “This is why you thought I was going to hate you?! What did you see?!”

Sylvain stood and put his hands lightly on his shoulders. “Fe… I don’t think—”

“Get off of me!” He shoved Sylvain to the side and strode forward to stand in front of Byleth. He forcefully grabbed her chin and raised in so she had to look at him. “Tell me what you saw. I need to know. Tell me!”

She whispered so softly his almost missed it, even though he stood right in front of her. “I watched him die.”

He pulled his hand away as if he’d been burned and took several steps backward until his calves hit the couch. His hands were shaking as he stared at Byleth wide eyed. She was watching him carefully now, her whole body poised as if waiting, like he might attack her. 

He stammered, “How… did he… die? All they brought back… was his armor… and his sword. They said the body was…” He had overheard the knights telling his father that the body was too disfigured. They had only been able to identify him by his destroyed armor and his sword, which bore the Fraldarius Crest on the hilt. 

“Dark magic,” Byleth whispered. “He was trying to keep the mages from pursuing Dimitri and Gilbert, but he was overwhelmed. There was so much…” Her hands clenched at her sides as she squeezed her eyes shut. 

“The deadbeat… was the last to…” his whole body was shaking now, as his brain fought to process everything. Gustave had been the last to see Glenn alive. Glenn had stayed behind to try and keep them from getting to Dima… to Dimitri… to the boar. Dima was the one he thought he saved, but there was no way he could have known that Dima didn’t make it back to the Kingdom, that instead it was a beast wearing Dima’s skin.

A bark of laughter escaped him before he croaked, “Did he die like a true knight?” 

Byleth froze with her eyes wide. “What do you—”

He snapped, “My father said that Glenn died like a true knight. He said we should be proud of Glenn for dying for His Highness” he wrinkled his nose with distaste as he sneered the title “because that is our duty as the Shield for the royal family. So, tell me, did he die like a true knight?”

Byleth wrapped her arms around her torso and seemed to shrink into herself. Sylvain stepped in front of him, blocking his view of Byelth. Honey eyes were glassy as he whispered, “Fe… I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.” 

“I don’t want your fucking pity,” he snapped as he shoved Sylvain’s chest, “I just want to know! I want to know if he died like a true knight. I want to know if I should be proud of Glenn for sacrificing himself for the beast that is probably stalking the cathedral as we speak. Should I be proud that he isn’t here anymore, because of some twisted sense of duty?!” His voice became louder with each sentence as Sylvain tried and failed to soothe him. 

He shoved the redhead away again and glared at Byleth, who was covering her face with her hands. He barked, “Tell me. Should I be proud?”

She dropped her hands, and Felix almost flinched back at the look of despair that was twisting her features. Her voice was sad and soft as she said, “Your father was wrong to tell you that. I don’t know if he was just trying to make himself feel better, or if he really does believe that, but he shouldn’t have said that to you.”

He hissed, “You aren’t answering my question.”

Her tone was almost pleading as she said, “Death isn’t like in the storybooks, Felix. You know this, you’ve been fighting a war for five years.”

He roared, “JUST TELL ME!”

She shook her head and softly said, “He was scared…” she wrapped her arms around herself as a shiver ran through her, “but his face… he was determined to get Dimitri out of there alive.” She swallowed heavily as Felix slumped his shoulders. “His last words were… that he was sorry.” 

He couldn’t breathe.

Byleth slowly walked forward to stand right in front of him. Her eyes were glistening with unshed tears as she whispered, “I’m sorry, Felix. I tried to change it… but I couldn’t. If I could go back and save him, if I could go back and save everyone… I would. But my powers have limits. I couldn’t do anything but watch.”

Pressure was building behind his eyes and everything was beginning to blur. Oh goddess… he was going to start crying. He was going to start crying like a child.

“Tell us what you need, Fe.” Sylvain’s soft voice was close behind him, and Felix thought he could feel the warmth radiating off of him, but neither of them were touching him. There was a lump growing in his throat, and it was making it even harder to breathe. Sylvain whispered, “What do you want us to do?”

What does he need? What did he want them to do? He croaked, “I don’t _need_ anything.” He cleared his throat and added in a more even tone, “I don’t _need_ anyone. Leave me alone!” He had to sidestep out from between them. One of them grabbed his wrist, in the haze of his mind right now he wasn’t sure which one, but he ripped his arm away either way. He made his way out of the office, out the door, and down the steps. 

_I don’t need anyone. I don’t need anyone. I don’t need anyone._

Glenn died scared and alone. He had known that Glenn died for Dimitri, hell everyone that died that day died for Dimitri, but hearing it now… knowing that Byleth saw it… and that Glenn was sorry. Who was he talking to? Dima? His father? Him? Was he sorry for leaving? Was he sorry he couldn’t come home? Was he sorry he wasn’t stronger? Sorry he couldn’t keep everyone and himself safe? What was he thinking when he died? Did he regret dying for Dimitri?

Felix couldn’t know that. No one could, because Glenn Fraldarius died. He’s dead.

It was late at night, so when he stormed into the training grounds, they were empty. Without another thought he picked up a training sword and began to attack the training dummy in front of him. He didn’t want to think right now. He couldn’t think right now.

~Sylvain~

Sylvain hadn’t seen Felix tremble like this since the day Byleth died, when he woke up crying and panicking. Everything in him wanted to hug him, wanted to hold him close and tell him everything was going to be okay. However, he reminded himself that this was about Felix, not him, and Felix wasn’t fond of touch on the best of days.

“Tell us what you need, Fe. What do you want us to do?”

Felix’s voice was a croaked whisper, “I don’t _need_ anything.” He cleared his throat, and Sylvain could practically see the bricks Felix was laying as he tried to build up the defenses around himself. “I don’t _need_ anyone. Just leave me alone!” It lacked venom, probably because Felix sounded so sad and scared. Sylvain grabbed his wrist when he tried to flee, but Felix didn’t even look back before ripping his arm away and running out the door.

Felix wanted to be alone, that was what he said. As much as everything in him screamed to go after him, he shouldn’t. Right? 

Byleth was shaking, but she looked like she was trying her hardest to pull herself together. He stepped forward and tried to pull her into a hug, for her but also for himself, but Byleth shook her head. She whispered, “You should go after him. I would but… he probably doesn’t want to see me right now.” 

“He said he wants to be alone…”

She huffed out a quiet breath and shook her head. “Felix always says stuff like that. We both know he didn’t mean it.”

Well, he might have, but there was really only one way to find out. He looked Byleth over again, still feeling concerned after her reaction this morning, and softly said, “Are you okay?” He placed a hand on her arm and rubbed it softly, trying his best to be comforting.

“He needs you, and I know you want to go and help.” Byleth looked like she was trying to smile, but her features were still overwhelmingly sad. “Just go. I’ll be fine.”

Despite her protests, he pulled her against his chest, and she quickly responded by wrapping her arms around his waist. She squeezed him tightly, almost too tightly, and then lightly pushed him toward the door. She cleared her throat and lightly said, “Go. I’ll be okay.” He hesitated. As much as Felix needed someone right now, he could tell that Byleth did, too. He couldn’t even imagine the things that she had seen, but he knew that it was enough to make Dimitri slowly go mad, so that didn’t ease any of his worry. 

She chuckled mirthlessly. “I’ll be fine. I have to do some things, and then go down to Abyss. It’s okay. Go.” He looked between her face and the door again before squeezing her hand and walking away. 

It wasn’t hard to find Felix, the man was nothing if not predictable in times like these. Sylvain quietly pulled the door of the training grounds open, and was greeted by the sound of Felix’s training sword striking the training dummy. His movements were erratic and sloppy, and held none of the usual grace Felix usually possessed with a sword in hand. He didn’t even turn around as Sylvain walked over to the rack and grabbed a training lance.

He hit the butt of the lance against the ground a few times, and Felix whirled around to face him with his chest heaving. “Spar with me.”

Felix’s eyes narrowed. “Go away.”

He playfully whined, “Come on, Fe. How often do I ask you to spar?”

Felix’s nostrils flared. “Only when you are being desperate and needy. I don’t want you here. GO AWAY!” 

“Being an asshole isn’t going to work this time, buddy. Now, I know you want to hit me. Just do it.” He dropped into a defensive stance just in time for Felix to charge him with an angry yell.

“Why,” Sylvain blocked the swipe of Felix’s blade with his lance, “won’t,” another, “you,” another, “just,” another, “leave,” another, “me,” another, “ALONE!” His form was sloppy, but Sylvain allowed him to continue his assault as he screamed.

He calmly replied, “You know the answer to that already.” 

“If I did,” Felix attempted to kick out his legs, but Sylvain jumped out of the way, “I wouldn’t have asked.” He charged again, hit after hit against his lance, but Sylvain continued to defend against everything. Felix screamed with rage, “Are you going to take this seriously or not?!”

Sylvain gritted his teeth as he started to push forward. Felix was fast, but in his emotional state he was sloppy, too sloppy. Sylvain was stronger, and he pushed and pushed until Felix had to back up toward a pillar. With a well-timed strike, Felix’s sword went flying off to the side, and Sylvain had his lance pressed across his chest.

Felix’s chest was heaving, most likely from a mixture of exertion and rage. His face was red as he panted, “Fuck! I fucking hate you! When did you get so good with a fucking lance!” His jaw was tense as a droplet of sweat moved from his temple, down his jaw.

“You’re distracted. I don’t have the skill to beat you any other time.”

“Stop the self-deprecating bullshit!” He tried to shove off the wall, but Sylvain continued to press the length of his lance against the emotional swordsman’s chest as he shifted to keep him pinned. Felix tried to free himself, but Sylvain was stronger, and heavier. His eyes were still narrowed as he stared up at Sylvain defiantly. “Would it kill you to just admit that you work hard?”

“I don’t know,” he calmly replied, “Would it kill you to just let me help you?”

Felix struggled again, but he kept the swordsman in place. “I don’t need your help!”

His voice was softer as he said, “I know you’re strong. I know you don’t need anybody. I know all that.” 

“Don’t be—”

“I’m right here, Fe, and I’m not going anywhere.”

Felix’s voice cracked as he growled, “You don’t know that! We’re in the middle of a war!” It’s the same thing he said after Emery died, and the same fear he had back in the Academy. The day Byleth told them about her ability to turn back time, Felix had lamented the fact that he wasn’t strong enough to protect them. It seemed the discussion about his brother was making that particular fear rear its ugly head. In fact, maybe it was the source of it in the first place. 

The attempts to get out of his hold were getting weaker and weaker. “I know we are. But you and I made a promise, and I’m going to keep it. I’ll be right here by your side until we die, Fe. I promised.”

Emotion made Felix’s voice crack as he yelled, “It was a stupid fucking promise that I never should have made!”

The words hit him like a blow to the chest. There was an edge in Sylvain’s voice as he begged, “No. Don’t do that. You don’t get to take that away from me.”

Felix’s voice wavered as he gritted out, “Why won’t you leave me alone?!” 

“Because I know how that day wrecked you! You completely changed. You shut me out, you shut EVERYBODY out. I’m not going to let you do that again.”

Felix sneered, “I’m not the little boy who’s going to run up and cry to you, Sylvain. It’s been almost ten years since Glenn died. It’s been almost ten years since he sacrificed himself for the beast that came back. It’s been ten years since he died for him, rather than coming home to me!” His chest rose and fell with heavy pants as tears gathered at the corner of his eyes. His jaw looked painfully tight as he gritted his teeth.

“You needed him, too,” Sylvain whispered as he dropped his hold, “and he didn’t come back. That doesn’t mean he didn’t love you, Fe. I know he did.”

The attempt at reassurance didn’t work. If anything, it seemed to make him more agitated. “Everyone wants me to be just like Glenn. The old man wants me to be self-sacrificing and noble, and my mother misses the son she no longer has. Ingrid thinks I’m not living up to my potential, but it’s really Glenn she sees. She’ll spout off about my duty and obedience, but Glenn’s the one who taught me to think for myself. She has this romanticized version of him in her head, just like the old man and my mother. Even the boar prince had his say!” 

“And you…” Felix pointed a trembling finger at him, “You are just as bad as the others.”

He followed the first part, but now he was confused. “You think I compare you to Glenn?”

“No, you want me to be something I no longer am. You want me to be the child I was, but I’m not. I’m not going to cry to you, I’m not going to curl up into your arms in a sniveling mess. You liked me more when we were kids, and now you're STILL holding onto that.” He raised his head and yelled, “I don’t need you! Now leave me alone!”

Sylvain huffed and crossed his arms as he responded, “You’re being an ass, you know that?”

“This is who I am, Sylvain. Fucking deal with it.” Felix’s eyes narrowed defiantly.

“This isn’t who you are, this is who you’re trying to convince everybody you are so you feel like you don’t have to care. I get it, I practically wrote the book on pushing people away because you don’t want them to see what’s actually going on.” Felix scoffed and crossed his arms, but his eyes widened as Sylvain stepped into his space and said, “Guess what? I’m not going to let you push me away. I’m here to stay.”

Felix rolled his eyes and turned away. “No you aren’t. Now why don’t you run off to Byleth?”

“There’s no “running off to Byleth”, Fe. If she thought she’d have any chance of helping, she’d be here, too. The only reason she’s not is because she thinks seeing her right now will make it worse. We both want to help you.”

“She’s the one who saved you,” something wild wormed its way into Felix’s eyes as he stomped forward, forcing Sylvain to retreat, “She’s the one who makes you smile, holds you when you’re upset, helps you feel better. Go!”

Sylvain furrowed his eyebrows and incredulously asked, “What are you talking about?”

“She’s the reason you’re still alive. She’s the one who can make you happy. I wish you’d just fucking leave me alone if you’re going to leave anyway!” Felix stomped over to his fallen sword and stooped to pick it up before walking back toward the training dummy.

“Byleth may have been the one to pull me out of that well, but she’s not the reason that I’m still alive.” Felix froze, but didn’t turn to face him, so Sylvain closed the distance between them. “You are, Fe.”

“What are you talking about,” Felix hissed.

“I’m talking about you and your promise, Fe.” A lump formed in Sylvain’s throat and he tried to clear it before adding, “I woke up the next day, and I couldn’t help thinking about how disappointed I was that Miklan failed. But you… you were so upset, and I hated seeing you so sad. I still do.” Felix slowly turned back toward him with wide eyes. Sylvain hesitantly cupped his cheek in his hand as he whispered, “You asked me to promise that I’d stay with you, and that we’d die together. I’ve kept that promise, because you’re important to me. You always have been, and you always will be.”

Felix didn’t move away from him. Amber eyes were wide, and he tracked the motion when they darted down to look at his lips before coming back up to meet his. Sylvain slowly leaned the last of the way, hoping to press his lips to Felix’s, but at the sound of a heeled boot clicking against stone, Felix immediately jumped away from him. When he turned, he saw Byleth standing there, wide eyed and opened mouthed, with her travel pack hanging from her shoulder. All of the emotion in her face vanished so fast, he would have missed it if he had blinked. “You guys… look busy. I’ll just leave you be.” Neither of them said anything, and Felix was staring at her with wide eyes. 

Felix stammered, “We’re not—”

She cut him off. In a carefully neutral tone she said, “It’s okay. I wanted to check on you, but I didn’t want to make things worse or anything. I have stuff I have to go and do, anyway.” She smiled, but it was weak, and her eyes didn’t light up like they normally did when she smiled. She shifted the bag on her shoulder and walked back out the door. 

Felix’s eyes flicked between him and the door where Byleth had left as a frown pulled at the sides of his mouth, “Don’t you want to go after her?”

“Why?”

Felix’s eyes narrowed as his nostrils flared. “Because you want to be with her!”

Pain shot through his chest, but he pushed it away. Amber eyes flicked back to the door, and Felix’s features were riddled with worry. He hesitantly asked, “Do you want to go after her?”

“She thinks I’m upset with her…” was the swordsman’s quiet reply.

“Well, she just told you everything about…” he didn’t finish the thought as Felix’s jaw twitched. “You kinda ran away, and she thinks it’s her fault. Not to mention you haven’t really been around much since she’s been back…”

Felix hissed dangerously, “She had you.”

“She still does!” Sylvain held his hands up in an attempt to placate him. “I’m still going to do everything I can to help her. Aren’t you?”

“Of course, I am!” he snapped. “Why are you being this calm?! Why aren’t you freaking out?!”

“Because,” Sylvain hesitantly raised his hand to cup Felix’s cheek, “I’ve been trying to get you to talk to me for days, and you finally did.” 

Instead of helping to calm him, the words made Felix’s features twist with fury. “I’m not some consolation prize, you asshole. I know how you feel about her.” Felix pushed him away and ran toward the door, and Sylvain trailed along behind him.

“You aren’t a consolation prize, Fe. How could you even say that?!” When they got outside, Felix frantically looked around, but Byleth was long gone. “Anyway, I know how you used to feel about her. You wouldn’t admit it, but I knew. Do you… not want me?” 

“Don’t be…” Felix groaned and ran a hand through his thoroughly mussed hair. “Don’t be stupid. I just… where do you think she went?”

“Abyss. She said she had something to do.”

Felix groaned and said, “Let’s just go and look for her.” He took off before Sylvain could say another word. 

~Byleth~

It took her a long time to pull herself together after Felix and Sylvain ran out, a fact that she abhorred. Felix was the one who needed help, but what could she do? She was the one that reopened the old wound, that frankly hadn’t even healed for Felix. She hated that she told him, but every other alternative made her feel worse.

She was walking toward Abyss when concern got the better of her. She knew Felix would have run to the training grounds, so she assumed Sylvain would be in there trying to talk to him. _Would seeing me just make things worse?_ Her chest tightened, but her desire to help her friend won out. She pulled open the door, took one step, and then froze. 

For a split second, she took in Felix and Sylvain standing in the center of the floor. Sylvain’s hand was cupping Felix's cheek and they were staring at each other in a way she had never seen before. Their faces were hovering only a few inches apart and they looked like they were about to… _Holy shit._

Felix heard her heel click against the stone and jumped away from Sylvain, but she had already seen them. Realization crashed over her like an icy wave. Sylvain fell in love with Felix while she was sleeping, and then felt like he couldn’t tell her. He had said that the person he loved didn’t want to be with him anymore, but that obviously wasn’t the case if Felix’s tender gaze had anything to say about it. Suddenly she felt hot all over, and there was a weird feeling in her chest. She wanted to leave. She did NOT want to be here anymore. 

“You guys… look busy. I’ll just leave you be.” Neither of them said anything at first, and Felix was staring at her with wide eyes. 

Felix stammered, “We’re not—”

She didn’t want to deal with this right now. She didn’t want to stand here and have them stare at her any longer. She was careful to keep her tone even as she said, “It’s okay. I wanted to check on you, but I didn’t want to make things worse or anything. I have stuff I have to go and do, anyway.” Tried her best to smile, but the furrow that appeared between Sylvain’s eyebrows told her it didn’t work that well. Nothing to do but retreat then. And retreat she did, as quickly as she possibly could. 

She walked through the tunnels of Abyss with her mind racing. There were too many confusing feelings to try and identify. Why were emotions so confusing? When were things going to stop being so overwhelming? Eventually she came across the same man in light armor that Yuri had spoken to the first night she came here.

“Halt!” He straightened and lifted his axe, but relaxed again as his eyes widened in recognition. “Oh… it’s you. You’re the acting archbishop, aren’t you?”

She smiled softly and said, “You can call me Byleth.”

The man shifted on his feet and wrung his hands against the handle of his axe. “Well… I’m the Abysskeeper. Yuri says you’re pretty important, so… let me know if you need anything.”

She asked, “Actually, I could use your help. Do you know where Balthus or Yuri are?”

“Is that who I think it is?” A sultry voice cooed as Yuri stepped out of the Shadow Library. He sauntered up to her and said, “Back so soon? Just can’t get enough, can you?”

“I was hoping you and Balthus would want to get a drink with me.” His eyebrows raised ever so slightly and she added, “There’s something I need to talk to you about, but I need a stiff drink first.”

“Everything okay there, friend?”

“It’s been… a tough day.” She chuckled half-heartedly and looked down at the floor.

Yuri didn’t miss a beat. In a breezy tone he said, “Drinks, then. I’m sure Balthus is already there.” He grabbed her hand and waved to the Abysskeeper before pulling her further down the corridor. His hand was warmer than she thought it would be, and it was really soft. 

As she got closer, she could hear the massive brawler shouting and the tiniest hint of a smile pulled at her lips. She turned the corner to find a few of Yuri’s fighters surrounding a table, she assumed having a drinking contest. It reminded her of nights at the tavern back when she was a wandering mercenary, and it filled her with a sad sort of happiness that she didn't completely understand. Balthus stood on one side, and a man that was about the same size as he was, stood on the other. Balthus finished the drink in his hand and rubbed his forearm over his mouth as he loudly smacked his lips with a sigh. His eyes landed on her and a huge grin split his face. “Look who it is! How’s it going, pal?”

The fighters all turned to look at her, and she could see the distrust on their faces as they looked her over warily. She asked, “Is that invite for drinks still on the table?”

He immediately yelled, “Hell yeah! Get over here!” He walked over and threw an arm heavily over her shoulder. “You comin’ too, Boss?”

A satisfied smirk appeared on Yuri’s face as he said, “Well our friend here says she has something to discuss with us. I’m not going to miss out on that, now am I?”

“Oh,” Balthus’ eyes widened ever so slightly, “Do we need to round up Hapi and Constance? They might be a bit… busy… at the moment but—”

“No. Just you two,” She tilted her head towards the table, “I want to see if you can outdrink me first, though.”

She relished the long look-over both guys gave her. Most people underestimated the amount she could drink because of her size, but she was raised by an alcoholic mercenary. Drinking was practically in her blood. “You’ve got it, pal!” Balthus let out a booming laugh before shouting, “Jerry! Can we get the pretty lady some drinks?”

“Can you pay for said drinks?” A skinny old man behind the counter sternly crossed his arms and raised an eyebrow at Balthus.

“I’ve got ‘em.” Byleth pulled out a decent handful of coin from a pouch tucked in her shorts and threw it on the counter. “Get some for these guys too, if you would.” She nodded to the surrounding fighters, who looked at her with various expressions of surprise and suspicion.

“Are you sure you want to do that down here, friend?” Yuri whispered from close behind her. “You’re putting quite the target on your back, and the people down here can be quite shifty.”

“I noticed,” she smirked over her shoulder and gave Yuri a pointed look, “but I don’t think any of your people would be dumb enough to attack me, and if they are, they won’t like what happens next.”

“I’ll say!” Balthus pounded her back as the man opened a barrel of ale and started pouring drinks for everyone. “The boss is right, though. Down here, you’ve gotta watch your back.”

“I’ll keep that in mind. For now… I say we drink!” She lifted a mug and gained a chorus of shouts from the people in the room as she chugged the ale. _Oh goddess… and Sylvain thought my stuff was bad._ The thought of the redhead made something feel like it was twisting in her chest, but she pushed it away. Her nose wrinkled at the taste of the ale, but she still chugged it all, and set the mug down with a satisfied sigh. 

Yuri raised an eyebrow and leaned his lithe frame back against the counter as Jerry began pouring her another. He crooned, “That kind of day, huh?”

What kind of day would you say it was when you had a nightmare about being ripped apart, fought massive constructs and phantoms that faded to dust, had a vision about a tragedy that had impacted the lives of your closest friends, been yelled at about watching your best friend's brother die, and then walked in on your two closest friends almost kissing? Shitty was the only word that came to mind at the moment. All she said out loud was, "You could say that."

She leaned back to chug some more of the ale, avoiding Yuri’s eye. Right now, she really just wanted to get drunk and not think. When she finally set the mug back down, lavender eyes were still staring at her with a look she couldn’t quite decipher. His looks were always evaluative, but this one held a bit of something else that she could quite pin down. She explained, “Really, I just want to get drunk and not think about any of it.”

“That stuff will do the job, kid. You’ve got my word.” Jerry winked from behind the counter as he wiped out her mug before filling it again. It seemed like she had made at least one friend today with her nice handful of gold. She really should ask Yuri what she can do to help out the other merchants down here. Maybe she could find someone to make her some new clothes or something. After five years of the monastery being deserted, they could probably use the business. Besides, she didn’t have high expectations for the things Seteth would be getting for her.

“So, what did you want to talk about, pal?” Balthus bumped her with his shoulder, and she had to quickly adjust the hold on her drink to keep it from spilling.

“I have a proposition for you two.” Her statement earned a raised eyebrow from Yuri, and a loud laugh from Balthus.

The brawler wiggled his eyebrows suggestively and with a shit-eating grin said, “You can proposition me anytime, pal.” 

She chuckled and shook her head, “I’ll keep that in mind.” He winked and she playfully rolled her eyes. “I wanted to talk to the two of you about hiring Balthus as my personal guard.”

“And why am I required for this conversation?” Yuri tipped his head to the side, and his long hair spilled down his chest in a way that made her want to run her fingers through it.

“Because I wasn’t sure how far the whole “Boss” thing goes. I don’t want to take one of your people from you, but Seteth has been on my case about having someone with me at all times and I know Balthus could use the gold.” She turned toward the brawler, who was watching with unrestrained interest, “You mentioned bounty hunters being a concern when on the surface, so I thought it could be a you watch my back, I watch yours, sort of deal.” She looked back over to Yuri and added, “I know how much you care about him, so I promise to watch out for him, if you’re okay with me offering him the job.”

“And you said there’s gold involved with this gig?” Balthus’ eyes lit up as she set her travel pack on the stool with a satisfying clink of the large bullions that rested at the bottom of the bag. She knew how guys like Balthus worked. She WAS a mercenary her entire childhood.

She kept her tone light as she said, “Yup. Rhea left me a little present.”

“It’s official!” Balthus stood and raised his mug as he spoke in a booming voice, “The perfect woman does exist! She can kick my ass, she buys me drinks, and finds reasons to give me gold!” He slammed his cup back on the counter and lifted her into the air and spun her around with an excited whoop. People shouted slurred exclamations with various levels of enthusiasm and jeering around them as she threw her head back with a laugh.

“Keep it in your pants, would you, Balthus?” Yuri rolled his eyes with the barest upturn of his lips. She wavered slightly as Balthus put her back down and turned back toward him. “So, you meant it when you said you wanted to help out?”

“Of course, I did,” she shrugged, “I want to talk to you about the merchants down here, as well. Is there anything I can do to get your guys some business right now? I’m sure the last few years have been—”

He stopped her with a finger over her lips and a smirk. “Alright, I get it. Knight in shining armor and all that. Geesh.” His finger didn’t move from her lips, and she tried her hardest to fight off a blush as his eyes flickered from his finger on her lips to her eyes and back again. “Come with me.” He nodded his head in the direction of the door and grabbed her bag. She downed the rest of her drink, waved farewell to the others in the room, and ran out after him.

They walked down the stairs and through a smaller set of tunnels until they reached a room hidden off to the side. Yuri opened the door and she followed him in before the door slammed shut behind her. Her bag hit the floor with a thud before she was pushed up against the door with Yuri’s body pressed against hers. He purred, “What’s your play here, friend?” His voice sounded seductive, but his eyes were dangerous, and she didn’t think that was what he was getting at.

She swallowed heavily as his finger trailed down against her white collar. “I don’t… have one? I just want to help.”

He sneered, “No one offers help for nothing. No one tries that hard to win people over without having another agenda. I don’t have to explain to you that that’s not the way the world works.” He chuckled darkly and whispered in her ear, “The last man who walked in here and insisted he wanted to help, actually wanted to sacrifice me and my friends in some blood ritual. He took my mother, locked up my men, and tried to force me to betray them. You should know that he’s dead now.” His fingers lightly traced patterns against the plane of skin on her lower belly between her shirt and her shorts, causing a shiver to go down her spine. “Needless to say, I’m not quite as trusting as I once was.”

She sincerely replied, “I understand what that’s like, and I’m sorry that happened, but I swear I'm not trying to do anything but help.”

“How could you possibly understand,” he whispered darkly against her ear. “How could you possibly understand what that’s like?” 

“Rhea did something to me,” she gasped slightly as Yuri nuzzled his nose below her ear, “when I was a baby. Now I don’t have a heartbeat. I think she tried to perform a ritual that would make the goddess take over my body, but it didn’t work. She still thinks it might happen, at least she did before she disappeared. So… I get it.”

He moved his head back just enough to look into her eyes, his gaze critical and analyzing as he searched her face. Without looking away from her eyes, his hand raised to settle over where her heart should be. His eyes widened ever so slightly before he stepped back, releasing her. “What the hell?”

She nodded, weirdly missing the heat of his body against her own, even if it was some weird threatening tactic. “Yeah. That seems like a fair reaction.”

He looked her body over again as he said, “So… the vessel thing…”

“Is quite literal to Rhea. She doesn’t see me as a human, just a body to be taken over by the goddess.”

He brought a hand to his forehead. “And the drama from today? The part where you said the goddess’ true name… and then your friends and Seteth freaked out?”

“They thought it was happening, but it wasn’t. Sothis was in my head for a while, and we were friends. She sacrificed herself for me in the Sealed Forest. She gave me her power, thus this.” She raised a strand of her hair and Yuri’s eyes flickered down to the hair and then back up to her face. “I don’t think she’d take over intentionally, but I guess anything is possible at this point.”

Yuri’s eyebrows pulled together as he asked, “Why are you telling me all of this?”

“Because I want you to trust me. I get your reservations. People can be cruel and manipulative, but that’s not me. I actually want to help in any way I can.”

Yuri raised an eyebrow and chuckled incredulously. “You know they used to call you the Ashen Demon. You were the mercenary who could cut her enemies down without a hint of emotion on her face.”

She chuckled mirthlessly and knocked the back of her head against the door. “That’s because I didn’t have emotions until I came here.” Yuri’s eyebrows lifted impossibly higher and she explained, “Well… maybe I did, but not like other people. The first time I ever got angry was the day I met Sylvain and Felix, and I was probably… fourteen or fifteen? If you haven’t noticed, I’m not really normal.”

His voice was still hesitant as he said, “And you’re just giving me all this information because…?”

She reaffirmed, “Because I want you to trust me. You’re my ally, and like you said, trust is a choice. I’m choosing to trust you, and I hope you’ll return the favor. It’s going to be impossible to end this war and destroy the shadow group if we don’t trust each other.”

He stepped toward her again, boxing her against the door with a hand near her head. He cooed, “Trust isn’t something I just give away, and you just gave me all of your cards. Who’s to say I don’t just hand this information to the Emperor?”

“You don’t have all of my cards,” she answered evenly, “I have more power than you’ll ever know. Besides, you said it yourself, you’re aren’t fighting on the losing side.” He continued to stare at her, and something about his expression made her feel like he was trying to read her like a book written in a language he couldn’t read. 

She tilted her head to the side as she walked her fingers up his chest. “Now are you going to stop playing games and come get a drink with me, or what?”

He leaned his head forward enough to purr into her ear, “Are you sure drinks is what you want?”

She shoved him back with a roll of her eyes. “I’m sure. Get me drunk.”

“That I can do.” Weird threatening time seemed to be over, because his countenance relaxed as he threw her bag toward her.

She asked, “Are we okay for the whole Balthus thing?” 

“Sure,” he waved a hand through the air, “his loyalty lies with me, though. It’ll be a set of eyes on you.” 

“Look all you want, pretty boy.” She pulled open the bag and took out the large bullions. “Put these somewhere for me?”

“Shit! There’s no way I’m giving both of those to Balthus.” Yuri chuckled and called, “Turn around.” She did, and she heard some rustling before Yuri said, “I’m taking part of what that bastard already owes me. I’m sure he’ll find a way to pay the rest.” Then he walked to her side and pulled open the door. “Let’s go.”

They were walking up the stairs toward the bar when she heard shouting. She gritted her teeth when she recognized the voice. She stopped where she was, and Yuri looked over at her with a raised eyebrow. “Guard dog came for you, it seems.” He chuckled quietly and shook his head.

“I don’t… I didn’t think they would…” She put a hand to her forehead and groaned.

Yuri cooed, “I'm assuming you came here to hide. Want me to get rid of them?”

She rolled her eyes. “There’s no telling what you mean by that, so no.”

“What?” Yuri put a hand to his chest and clicked his tongue. “I thought you said you trusted me?”

She smirked and shook her head. “Come on.” Yuri wrapped and arm around her waist and pulled her close as they walked around the corner. She huffed a heavy breath at his obvious attempt to mess with Felix.

“Boss!” The Abysskeeper had his axe raised when he spotted them. “People from the surface want in.”

“Well if it isn’t guard dog and the redhead,” Yuri cooed as he pulled her even closer. She rolled her eyes but didn’t push him away. “What brings you two down to Abyss?”

Felix looked livid, which was really nothing new, and Sylvain wouldn’t look at her. Felix narrowed his eyes at her and hissed, “We need to talk to you.”

“Is everything okay?” She straightened on the off chance this might actually be about something going on up on the surface.

“Everything is fine,” Sylvain’s tone was somewhat forced as he finally turned to look at her, and his smile was strained. “We just wanted to make sure you were okay… but it seems you’re busy.” He glanced pointedly at Yuri, and she scowled.

Felix asked, “Are you done with whatever you had to do?” 

“I got that done, but I was about to go and get a drink with Yuri. Is it important?”

Felix gritted out, “Yes,” just as Sylvain easily called, “Nope!” and popped the “p”. Felix turned his glare away from her, and pointed it at Sylvain instead.

The raven-haired swordsman huffed and crossed his arms. He looked at Yuri as he spat, “Will you leave? We need a second.”

“Oh, I think you need more than a second,” Yuri chuckled as he looked toward her. “I’ll be waiting if you, just in case you decide to come back for more.” He winked as he pressed a kiss to the back of her hand. She rolled her eyes at his antics and turned toward Felix and Sylvain, who looked less than pleased. She walked between them and kept walking until she had put enough distance between them and the Abysskeeper.

She stopped abruptly, turned around, and said, “What’s up?” She tilted her head to her fist and looked between them.

“Are you sleeping with that rat?!” Felix motioned behind them with pink-tinged cheeks. “Seriously?!”

She raised an eyebrow and tried to keep her voice even as she said, “That’s what you came to talk to me about? Who I’M sleeping with? And he’s not a rat, he’s an ally.” 

The flush traveled all the way to the tip of Felix’s ears. Whether it was embarrassment from the “sleeping with” comment, or rage, she wasn’t sure. Had they slept together already? How long had they been together? Were they together? She had so many questions that she couldn’t bring herself to ask. “Why do you trust him?! You don’t know anything about him?!”

“If that’s what you wanted to discuss, I’m in no mood. I’ll talk to you guys—”

“That’s not what we wanted to talk about.” Felix grabbed her arm to keep her from walking away. “What you saw earlier… it wasn’t what you thought it was.”

She narrowed her eyes as hurt and anger began to build in her chest. “You told me it was none of my business because I was gone,” Sylvain’s head swiveled to Felix, “and Sylvain told me that the person he had fallen in love with didn’t want to be with him anymore,” Felix turned to look at Sylvain, but quickly dropped his gaze when they met eyes, “that’s not what it looked like from where I was standing, but whatever, that’s your business. Obviously, it’s not mine.”

Felix put a hand to his forehead and grumbled, “You’re being impossible.”

“I’m being impossible? How is this about me?! I guess you guys got together while I was sleeping, so what?”

“We thought you were dead!” Felix’s gaze pierced into hers as he stepped up to her to get in her face.

“I’m sorry!” Her vision blurred and she wiped the back of her hand over them to try and stop the tears from flowing down her cheeks. She was angry, so very angry. Why in the hell was she crying? When were emotions going to make any sense?! 

She yelled, “I don’t know how many times I’m going to have to say that for you to believe me, but I’ll say it all you want! I’m sorry you thought I was dead! I’m sorry I didn’t wake up sooner! I’m sorry I tried to save Rhea instead of just leaving with you! I’m sorry that you felt like you couldn’t tell me what was going on with you guys! I’m sorry for all of it.”

“None of that is your fault, By.” Sylvain walked up to put a hand on her shoulder, but she shook it away.

“I don’t want to talk about this anymore. It’s been a shitty…” How long have things been shitty? When were things not shitty? Before her father died? Before they came to this fucked up monastery in the first place? “Things have been shitty ever since I woke up in that goddess damned river and I don’t want to think about it anymore. I just want to get drunk and not have to deal with any of this! Now can I go?” She narrowed her eyes at Felix. “Or do you want to yell at me for something else?”

Felix quickly dropped his gaze to the floor, while Sylvain stepped forward to try and put his hands on her shoulders again. “By…”

“I need to be… not here. I’m sorry.” She walked around Sylvain and headed back to the bar. She definitely needed about ten more drinks. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yuri just... really enjoys fucking with Felix. Can you tell? It's actually super fun to write. Hahaha


	13. Fire

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Preparation for the incoming attack is underway, and proves a useful excuse for Byleth to avoid some of her problems for a while. They are able to rout the Imperial soldiers, but now Byleth must make a decision on what their next course of action will be.
> 
> Title inspired by "Fire" by Barns Country

~Felix~

 _I hate this._ His scowl twisted his features even further as he slumped down in his chair. Currently he was listening to Byleth rerun the plan for the incoming attack for the tenth time. They had been working on formations for days now, and he already knew what he was supposed to do, not that he liked it.

Shamir led a scouting team to determine the location and get a better estimation of when the Imperial vanguard would storm the monastery, and what the forces were actually looking like. The vanguard was approximately one days’ march away, and the rebel forces were outnumbered three to one with their current numbers. Numbers that now included Byleth’s old crew and Leonie, who had showed up two days prior. Shamir was unable to spot any demonic beasts, but Byleth was quick to point out that, because they didn’t know for certain how they were created, it didn’t mean they couldn’t appear during the battle.

He tuned back in as Byleth stood and said, “I will be counting on all of you to work through the formations with the groups I’ve assigned while you are training today. This attack will be the start of an uphill climb, but I know that if we work together, we can do this.” An aura of anxiety could still be felt among the members of the group as they all stood and trickled out of the room.

He stood and marched over toward Byleth, where she stood looking over a map of the nearby town with Seteth, Gilbert, and Yuri. “Can I talk to you?”

“Not if it’s about your position again,” Byleth responded without even looking up from the map.

“This is ridiculous and you know it! I should be—”

“Would you like to take over as commander, Felix?” Byleth stood up straight and crossed her arms as she leveled him with a glare. It would be intimidating if she wasn’t tiny, but even with her small stature he was reluctant to admit that it had an effect on him. “Would you like to be in charge of everyone’s safety, so you can put yourself wherever you would like? Please,” she waved her hands over the map in front of her, “be my guest.”

“You’re using yourself as bait,” he hissed as he tried to round the table, but was stopped by Seteth’s hand on his shoulder, “it’s reckless and I’m not going to stand by while you do so.”

“I’ll be there to get her out in time, Guard Dog,” Yuri cooed from her side, “And if I’m not, Constance will be in the skies waiting to Warp her out, if necessary. We’ve already got back up plans for the back up plans.”

“You know that it’s going to be impossible to try and command Dimitri,” Byleth sighed and pinched the bridge of her nose. “We’ve talked about this over and over. Our only option is for me to provide him support as he inevitably tries to tear through their front lines. It will draw in the Imperial troops so we can blow everything and thin their numbers.”

“I’m not fond of the plan either, Mister Fraldarius,” Seteth shook his head and dropped his hand from Felix’s shoulder, “but I have faith in Byleth, as should you.”

He turned on the advisor and growled, “Don’t even get me started on faith, you—”

“That’s enough.” Byleth’s tone left no room for argument as she turned back to the map. “I’ve heard your complaint, but I can’t think of any other options. Please, go.” Yuri wiggled his fingers in farewell with a smirk before he leaned over her shoulder, far closer than was strictly necessary in Felix’s opinion, and pointing toward the locations they were debating using for the spark points.

With a groan of frustration, he turned on his heel and stormed out of the Cardinal’s Room. Sylvain was leaning against the wall with his arms crossed when Felix threw open the door. “What did she say this time?”

He huffed and said, “Same bullshit as yesterday.”

Sylvain met his stride as they turned the corner. He drawled, “I figured. Did you really expect something different? You’ve been hounding her about this for days now.”

“She’s using herself and the boar as bait! How are you on board with this RIDICULOUS plan?” 

Sylvain shrugged and crossed his arms behind his head. “Haven’t you noticed? No one likes the plan, Fe. But By and His Highness are arguably the two strongest fighters we have. If it has to be anyone, it has to be them.”

“The boar won’t even show up for the stupid meetings! How is he even supposed to be reliable bait?!”

“He’s not, and she’s obviously stressed about it. You questioning her isn’t exactly making anything better,” Sylvain chided. “If anything, it’s making her look weak to the other knights. Any other commander would have kicked you to the curb by now.”

Felix scoffed and crossed his arms. “She’s not going to kick me out. She needs every fighter she can get.”

“That’s not the point, Fe.” Sylvain moved to stop in front of him, and attempted to put his hand on Felix’s shoulder, but Felix moved out of his range. “The point is that I know you are trying to help, but you really aren’t doing anything but harming right now. She’s not just our teacher anymore, she’s the commander of a rebellion.”

“She’s our friend!” he shouted as he shoved Sylvain away. “Why in the hell am I the one who has to remind you of that?”

Sylvain’s calm façade cracked as he threw his hands in the air and exclaimed, “You don’t think I know that?! You don’t think I’m worried about all of this as well?! She won’t even talk to me for goddess’ sake!” Sylvain let out a deep breath and ran his hand through his tousled hair, obviously trying to calm himself down. “Just leave it alone, Fe. There’s nothing you can do about it this time.”

“We’ll see about that.” Felix stomped toward the stairs without a word, and Sylvain didn’t follow.

Byleth had been avoiding both of them for days now. Avoiding might be a dramatic way of putting it, but she always seemed to have an excuse to not be alone with either of them. “I promised Ashe I’d work with him in the greenhouse today, and I’m already running late.” “I’m working on plans with Yuri in Abyss tonight.” “I have an appointment to speak with a blacksmith about supplies for our weapons and armor.” Blah blah blah. 

The biggest problem, and he was being literal with the term biggest, was Balthus. He was a constant shadow for Byleth, including staying in her quarters every night, which was suspicious. He and Sylvain went to her room the morning after their little fight in the tunnels of Abyss and were upset about the fact that a shirtless and hungover Balthus opened the door. She came to the door and informed them that she had hired him to act as a guard, mostly to get Seteth off her back. Neither he nor Sylvain were fans of this idea, but they obviously had no say in anything anymore. They were just her friends, what the hell would they know? 

He was working through his movements a few hours later when he spotted Leonie slinking around behind the pillars. He groaned and dropped the training sword back to his side. “If you aren’t training, go away. You’re bothering me.”

She walked out from behind the pillar with a lance settled on her shoulder. “Finally spotted me, did ya?”

He didn’t turn to look at her, choosing to keep going through his movements instead. “I’m busy. What do you want?”

She shrugged and spun the lance on her shoulder over her head in a pathetic attempt to show off. “I’ve been asking around ever since I got back, and everyone says that, aside from Byleth, you’re the best. I wanted to see your training for myself.”

“I didn’t think you were the type to enjoy spying on people,” he scoffed and rolled his eyes, “Did you get your fill?”

Her voice took on an annoying teasing tone as she said, “I got enough to see how to beat you.”

That garnered his attention. He turned to face her fully, his features twisted into his normal scowl. “You think you can beat me?”

“That’s right. See I was trained by—”

He interrupted, “Jeralt. So what?”

Her eyes widened ever so slightly. “So, you know?”

He now remembered why he wasn’t a fan of Leonie. In a bored tone he replied, “It’s literally all I’ve ever heard you talk about. And I’m fairly certain you trained with him for a very short time before he left again,” she huffed indignantly, as he drawled, “That hardly counts for as much as you think it does.”

“Hey now!” Her face became red with rage as she threw the wooden training lance to the ground and walked toward him with her fist clenched at her sides.

He couldn’t help the smug smile that pulled at his features. “And if you’re using that reasoning, I was trained by Byleth when I was young, who was trained by Jeralt her entire life, so essentially we’re trained by the same person. Again, I ask,” he paused to give her a pointed look, “so what?”

“So,” she sing-songed in a mocking tone, “I’m going to prove that I’m better than you! I have to if I’m ever going to become stronger than Byleth.”

That earned a snort as he shook his head. She really didn’t know who she was dealing with, did she? “I’ll give you a chance, but I guarantee that you would never beat Byleth. Perhaps you could gain the upper hand in a spar, but never with all the chips down.” With complete confidence he stated, “You’ll never be stronger than she is.”

“You speak rather highly of her for someone who’s constantly questioning her competency in war council meetings.” Leonie crossed her arms in front of her chest as she glared at him.

He growled, “That’s none of your business. Are we sparring or not?”

“You’re on.” She bent down to pick up her lance and they began to circle one another. The first couple of minutes they fought in silence, using the time to get to know each other’s fighting styles and feel out any weaknesses. She broke the silence by asking, “You were saying you trained with Byleth before you came to the Academy?” She rushed forward to strike and he parried it easily.

“Yes. When I was eleven or twelve, I forget exactly when, she trained me for a few weeks.” He ducked beneath her swing and tried to elbow her side, but she spun out of the way before bringing her lance down on his sword.

“So… she’s kind of like your mentor then.” He preferred to think of her as his training partner, and the person he regularly compared himself to, but that was none of her business. Leonie chuckled and shook her head slightly as she blocked his strike. “The whole “I care about you” explosion back in the Academy makes a bit more sense now. That’s some kinky stuff right there.”

“What?!” Warmth rushed to his cheeks and her eyes narrowed as she charged forward and knocked him to the ground. He rolled away and jumped back to his feet before she could disarm him. “What the hell are you talking about?! She's my friend!” He charged forward and took several quick strikes at her.

She smirked as she drawled, “Being hot for teacher is such a cliché, don’t you think?”

He growled, “Shut the hell up and just fight me, damn it!” His next swing was too wide. She used her longer reach to strike his shoulder, followed by a quick hit to his forearm that was hard enough to make his hand lose grip of his sword. She kicked out his legs and he fell with a pained grunt. 

She leaned over him with a smug smile. “You get sloppy when you’re flustered or angry. You let your emotions distract you. Captain Jeralt told me the same thing right before Kronya murdered him.” A scowl formed as she reached out a hand to help him up. “That’s why I’ve been working hard on always keeping a clear head in battle. It’s something you should work on, too.”

As soon as he was standing, he brushed the dust off his pants and gritted out, “I don’t use cheap tactics to gain the upper hand. I rely on my strength and skill.”

Leonie shrugged and replied, “Captain Jeralt always said you gotta do whatever it takes to win. The weather, the terrain, the enemy’s feelings—you have to find a way to make it all work for you. I do think the hot for teacher thing is cliché, though. But I guess Byleth wasn’t a normal teacher.” She winked and punched his shoulder as he glared. “I know you’re worried about her, but you might want to actually support her instead of being an asshole.”

He growled, “I didn’t ask you for advice, Leonie.”

She smiled and tilted her head. “I know.” _Cheeky little…_

“Remind me why you’re here again?” he grumbled as he walked over to his fallen training sword. “Shouldn’t you be with the Alliance?”

“Claude’s trying to stay out of the fighting, but I want to make Edelgard pay for all she’s done. I figure the best way to do that is to stick with Byleth. I’m confident she’ll get the job done, and I’m gonna be right here to help her.”

“You are right about that, at least.” He paused as he looked down at his training sword. “You drew my attention to a major vulnerability. I suppose I should thank you.”

She chuckled and called, “Go ahead.”

“I just did. Now leave me be.”

She didn’t leave. Instead she walked over to stand next the dummy he was currently attacking. “Actually, since you’re thanking me-- which you’re terrible at by the way-- I was hoping I could ask for a favor.”

Through gritted teeth he asked, “What do you want?”

“Will you watch my next training session? You’re right about your strength and skill. I’m sure you could give me some pointers on fighting in close quarters. Byleth’s not easily distracted like you are.”

“I’ll help you train if you STOP TALKING.”

“Cool!” She pumped her fist in the air and grabbed her lance. He regretted the decision already.

~Byleth~

A knock sounded at her door and she pulled the last strap of her new armor into place before she opened it. “Did you know I can’t warp into your room?” Yuri had a curious look on his face as he waved his hand near the doorway. She suspected he was trying to work out whatever ward was placed over the room, but she doubted he’d be able to figure it out.

Byleth filed the useful information away in her brain before she deadpanned and asked, “You were going to warp directly into my room? What if I wasn’t decent?”

“All the better.” Yuri smiled wickedly as she rolled her eyes and punched his shoulder. “What in the hell are you wearing?” 

Balthus laughed from his seat near the tea table where he was polishing his gauntlets. “How’s it going, Boss?”

“Not too bad, considering we’re about to defend the monastery. I never thought I’d see the day we were fighting for the church.” He huffed a breath as he rolled his eyes, then he turned back to her with a pointed stare. “I’ll ask again. What the hell are you wearing?”

She sighed as she looked down at the armor that Seteth had commissioned for her. The breastplate was white with gold trimming down the front, and it only covered her breasts and torso. Golden gauntlets laced up her forearms, there was a high slit on both sides of the skirt that hung loose around her legs, and golden bracers covered the length of her shins. She kept her black heeled boots on, but that was the only thing that had carried over from her previous armor.

She grumbled, “This isn’t even the worst of it.”

Balthus let out a wheezing laugh and smacked his thigh. “You have to show him. Boss, it’s AWFUL. You’re gonna love it.” Byleth fought off the warmth in her cheeks at the obvious look of interest in Yuri’s eyes. His grin was almost predatory as she squirmed.

She reluctantly walked into the office and pulled on the golden circlet and awful cape that Seteth had given her with the armor. The circlet wasn’t that bad, and she understood that it set her apart from the crowd and showed her newly acquired—or rather forced—status, but the cape was just atrocious. A gold high collar circled her head and fell to a golden sash that hung to one side. The inside was royal blue, probably symbolic of their alliance with the Holy Kingdom of Faerghus, but the rest was white with gold trimming like her breastplate.

She scowled at Yuri, and silently dared him to laugh. He did. Her scowl became deeper as she ripped the awful cape off and threw it to the side. Yuri pulled himself together enough to coo, “At least the rest isn’t that bad.”

She walked into the washroom to stand in front of the full-length mirror. Yuri walked up to stand beside her and trailed a finger down one of her gauntlets. The person in the mirror didn’t even look like her. She had never looked more like Rhea, a fact that left her feeling unsettled. She could only imagine what people would think if they saw her wielding the Sword of the Creator and with the Shield of Seiros strapped to her arm.

She took a deep breath before grumbling, “I know we are fighting a war, and that other people have much bigger problems,” Yuri looked up to meet her gaze as she hesitated before saying, “but I’ve never felt more like a puppet on a string than I do right now.”

Yuri stepped in front of her, blocking her view of the mirror. All of the amusement had dropped from his features as he said, “Good. I’d be disappointed if you were complacent about them dressing you up like some sort of doll. You are your own person, friend. I haven’t known you long, but I know this,” he waved a hand in front of her, “isn’t you.”

She sighed heavily and turned to walk out into the bedroom again. “There’s nothing to be done about it now. It’s time to fight, and I need armor.”

“Come to Abyss tonight. I have some people I want you to meet.” 

“Please,” she practically begged, “tell me these are people that can make me real clothes.”

He chuckled and nodded. “They are.” He hummed softly and said, "I'm going to share something my mother always told me... the way we present ourselves to the world is a tool. If you don't want to portray this..." he waved pointedly to the armor, "then don't. Dress as the person you are, or want other people to believe you are." He winked coyly and walked away.

Did she even know who she was or who she wanted to be? She had honestly never had to think about who she wanted to be. For the first twenty years of her life, Jeralt made almost all of her decisions as she stood silently in the background. Once they came to the monastery, that started to change, but it was quickly pushed aside to focus on her students and friends. She contemplated Yuri’s words as they walked down to meet the others.

As they approached, she was greeted with an abrasive, “What the hell are you wearing?!” Felix’s voice rang out from her right and she turned to shake her head lightly at him. Now was hardly the time to bring it up, especially with Seteth standing a few feet away.

“I think it looks wonderful, Professor!” Flayn had her hands clasped in front of her chest as she stared with awe filled eyes.

Ashe added a starry-eyed, “You look like Saint Seiros herself.” 

“You do not have the Seiros Shield with you.” Seteth walked up to stand on her left and looked at her expectantly.

Because she had been avoiding it like the plague, was the short answer. Every time she thought about Rhea’s little gift, it left a bad taste in her mouth. She gave an excuse of, “With all of the planning, I didn’t have time to do any training with it. Once we route this vanguard, I’ll devote some time to it.”

“Understood.” The green-haired advisor nodded in understanding and turned to face the rest of her former students.

“What are you all standing around here for,” Dimitri’s deep voice sounded out behind her, “there are Imperial dogs to slaughter.” He attempted to walk right through them, but she grabbed his arm. He turned on her aggressively, and she stood her ground.

She whispered, “You remember the plan, right?”

He growled, “You are referring to your trickery, I assume?” He snorted derisively and ripped his arm away. “I remember, though I do not see why it is necessary. I will kill them all with my own two hands if you prefer to play coward.”

She moved closer and quietly hissed, “We have to be smart about this. We’re outnumbered three to one, Dimitri. We’ve discussed this multiple times.”

“I must ask you to refrain from any reckless behavior in battle, Your Highness,” Gilbert bowed low as he spoke to Dimitri, “This war effort will be over before it has even begun if you are killed in battle.”

“I cannot die now,” Dimitri said, his tired eye narrowed as it moved toward the horizon, “not without the witch’s head.” He stormed off without another word.

“You all know your orders,” Gilbert called as she walked after Dimitri, “everyone get to your stations.”

Sylvain ran up and grabbed her arm as she walked toward the gate. She turned to look up into caramel eyes as he whispered, “Please, be safe.”

“I will.” She reached her free hand out to squeeze his before pulling away. “You do the same. You and Felix have to look out for each other for me.” Sylvain’s features were the picture of grim determination as she turned away to run after Dimitri. She whispered a plea to Sothis that she would watch out for them, though she didn’t know if that really meant anything now.

Groups of her former students stood guard near the gates of the monastery proper as she ran toward the town they had rigged with the trap. Some of the Imperial troops had already begun to filter through the abandoned buildings, and adrenaline began to course through her. 

Yuri ran beside her as they trailed after Dimitri, who was already growling as he sprinted toward the enemy. The flapping of wings could be heard above them as Ingrid, Constance, and Seteth prepared to provide air support. She could hear the hoof beats of Hapi and Gilbert’s horses racing along behind them. The first clash of weapons meeting happened as Dimitri charged toward an Imperial swordsman. The man never stood a chance against the strength of the prince. Yuri lifted his hand and a bright Aura spell crashed down on three of the soldiers that were charging toward them.

They swerved through the wreckage of the old buildings, chasing after Dimitri while cutting down any enemies that he missed in his rampage. There were far more fliers than she thought there would be, and she began to doubt the effectiveness of their plan. She launched the Sword of the Creator toward a pegasus knight and she said a silent apology as the blade peirced through the poor animal’s wing. Its rider fell with a horrifying scream. 

Yuri called, “Do you see what I see?” 

She looked in the direction he was nodding in, and spotted who she figured was the enemy commander standing all the way on the other side of town. What was more interesting were the four masked mages that flanked him, two on each side. She nodded in affirmation after she cut down a heavily armored knight. 

She took in her surroundings quickly, and determined that they were ready for the trap to be set. “Pull back!” She called the retreat, of rather shouted the code they had discussed, as she turned to run in the direction of her students. Cries of victory and orders to pursue them sounded out behind her, and she heard Yuri chuckle in amusement. She glanced over her shoulder and grimaced as she realized the prince had not followed her order. She shouted, “Dimitri!”

Yuri glanced over his shoulder and called, “I’ve got him.” The prince appeared in a beam of light a few yards in front of her, and she motioned him back as he fought to get his bearings again. His face was twisted into a scowl as he roared his displeasure, but she ignored him. Yuri put his fingers to his mouth and whistled the signal for Constance to light the traps. The crackle of the Bolting spells sounded out as Yuri grabbed her waist and she was surrounded by light.

He deposited the three of them back at the gates in front of their forces, and she fought to keep her features neutral as she turned around. The explosions were bigger than she had imagined they were going to be. She felt the heat of the blasts on her face as the entire town burst into flames. She heard a whispered prayer from Mercedes behind her as the sound of the bloodcurdling screams of the Imperial soldiers who had been caught in the blaze began to fill the air. Several pegasus knights were soaring higher into the air, most likely trying to figure out where the enemy had disappeared to, or waiting for further orders.

Before she had even called the charge, Dimitri was already running back into the flames, not heeding her shouts for caution. She gritted out a curse under her breath and ordered her troops forward before she ran after him, coughing as smoke filled her lungs. The sound of horses’ hooves rumbled behind her, and she could see Sylvain, Ashe, and Leonie entering the burning town. 

She cut down a heavily armored knight who was screaming in agony inside his burning armor, putting him out of his misery. The burnt corpses of the Imperial forces who didn’t have as much armor caused bile to burn the back of her throat. An arrow whizzed past her ear, barely missing her, and she searched through the smoke to try and find the archer. Am agonized scream sounded out, and she looked over just in time to watch Dimitri kick an archer off of his lance. _Was he… protecting me?_ She shook the thought away, figuring it might have been a coincidence, though she couldn’t fight the seed of hope the action planted in her chest.

She had broken her former students up into two groups in an effort to sweep the entire town, mostly working down two main roads. The trouble with the smoke was that she couldn’t see if something went wrong, but she had faith that her soldiers could get through this since they had survived the last five years without her.

She ducked behind a wall as a mage shot a Fire spell her way. Another quickly followed it, and she gritted out a curse. She rolled out to launch the Sword of the Creator, but it became unnecessary as a Thunder spell tore through the enemy followed by a familiar voice calling, “You’re welcome.”

She turned toward the voice to see Felix standing off to her left, the spell sigil rapidly dimming as he drew his sword. She let some of her irritation slip into her tone as she called, “You’re supposed to be on the other side of town!” He had fought her for days about not being in the “bait” group, and not being in her follow up group that was going to storm through the main street of town, but she wanted him with Sylvain on the other side of town under Seteth’s command. She had wrongly assumed that he might follow Seteth’s order over hers, which was foolish on her part, really. Felix obviously didn’t listen to anyone but himself, a fact that was quickly getting old.

He responded, “There were far less enemies over there than anticipated, so Seteth sent me over here to help. You can thank me later.”

She fought the urge to roll her eyes as she charged forward, with Felix running just behind her. She had lost Yuri in the smoke, and she spared a second to hope he was alright. She could hear Dimitri’s rage filled roars off to her right somewhere. They were getting closer to the other side of town, and there were a lot more enemies concentrated here as they all guarded the enemy commander. 

Felix casted a Thoron spell toward a heavily armored knight, and she followed it with a Thunder spell that finished them off. He charged past her to take out an enemy mage as she heard a desperate shout for Mercedes behind her. Fearing the worst, she turned toward the shout, but felt a slow sense of relief as she spotted the young bishop already on her way to heal Ashe, who had an arrow protruding from his thigh. 

She quickly whirled back around as she heard Dimitri desperately call, “Professor! Get down!” She turned in time to see the enemy commander charging toward her with an angry yell, there was no way she could dodge the swing of his axe in time. She raised her sword in an effort to parry, but Dimitri came out of nowhere and jumped in front of her. 

He grunted in pain as the sound of steel meeting armor rang through the air. The axe pierced through his armor, and lodged into his chest. He fell backward and she tried to catch him, but not being strong enough, sank to her knees with him as a dead weight draped over her. “Forgive me… Professor…” he croaked through a wheezed cough. 

Tears blurred her vision as time froze. She stared down at her once golden lion cub, and allowed herself a moment to take in the clarity in his eye as he was frozen looking up at her. She had been so worried that there was no Dimitri left underneath all of the hate and darkness that had festered over the last five years, but now she knew. She knew that her golden lion cub was still in there. She knew her friend still cared for her. She now knew for certain that he needed her help to pull him from the darkness. She couldn’t give up on him. Not now, not ever.

Time was pulled back, and she took the opportunity to take in her surroundings. While she had been looking toward the shout for Mercedes, the masked mages had warped the Commander closer to her. She cursed warping abilities as she made her plan. 

When time resumed, she made eye contact with the commander. Having lost the element of surprise, the man she assumed was Commander Randolph Bergleiz shouted, “A devastating defeat, but it will not be a total loss!” as he charged toward her with his axe raised. 

Dimitri cried, “Professor! Get down!” Instead of listening, she charged straight for the commander with an angry yell, sword raised to parry the blow of his axe. In a blur of black and blue, Dimitri charged past her toward the masked mages, who were summoning sigils to assist the commander in taking her down. The enemy commander let out a cry as she pierced through his shoulder with her sword, causing him to drop his axe. Dimitri called back, “Capture him!”

She could see the merit in interrogating the general, but she had no materials to bind him. Luckily Gilbert trotted up on his horse, and moved to do as his prince had commanded. The enemy commander desperately pleaded, “Please, I cannot fall here! I have family to return to!”

Gilbert mumbled, “Such is war,” as he raised his axe and hit the man over the head, knocking him out. She leaned down to cast a Heal spell, not enough to completely seal the wound in his shoulder, but enough to slow the bleeding so he would be coherent for questioning. Gilbert nodded to her and picked the man up to sling him over his horse as she turned back to the battle.

The sounds of fighting were beginning to dwindle, and she knew they had emerged victorious. She surveyed the area, and her eyes fell on Yuri as he bent over one of the dead masked mages. She walked toward him as he pulled off one of their masks. She couldn’t help but scowl as her eyes took in the pale skin of their enemy. Her grip on her sword tightened as some of the anger from her father’s death and Solon’s dark spell causing her to lose Sothis flared in her chest. Her tone betrayed her rage as she said, “Their skin looks just like Solon and Kronya’s did.” 

Yuri mumbled, “And I thought Constance hated sunlight.” He knelt down and began rifling through the black robes the mage was wearing. “There’s nothing useful here.” 

She mumbled, “I suppose that would be too easy, wouldn’t it?”

“We know for a fact that they are still allied with the Emperor, and that will have to be enough for now.” A slight frown pulled at Yuri’s lips as he scanned the area. “I’ll take my men to sweep through their camp and take out any stragglers. I’ll tell you what I find when you come to see me tonight.”

“Thank you.” Yuri nodded and disappeared in a flash of light.

“What is Yuri doing?” Felix walked toward her, as he looked down at the mage with a look she couldn’t quite decipher. They hadn’t discussed any more details about her vision in the Holy Tomb, and she wondered if he had even processed the reason for the vision, or if had all been swept away in his reaction to her retelling of Glenn’s death. 

She explained, “He’s helping me find out more about the group of masked mages. He’s going to sweep their camp and tell me if he finds anything later tonight.” 

Felix’s eyes searched her face as he asked, “And you trust him to do that?” 

She nodded firmly. “I trust him. Besides, Yuri has his own reasons for wanting these bastards to pay.” She sent one last glance in the direction of the fallen mage before scanning the area for Dimitri. She couldn’t see him. She murmured a curse under her breath.

Felix must have noticed her distress because he asked, “What?” with a raised eyebrow.

She stepped closer, not wanting the other soldiers to overhear, and asked, “Have you seen Dimitri?”

Felix rolled his eyes and scoffed, the same reaction as every other time she brought up Dimitri. “The boar? He already headed back to the monastery.”

She quickly said, “I have to go.” She turned on her heel and began running toward the monastery, but Felix chased along after her.

He called, “What’s going on?”

“We took the commander prisoner. Do you think Dimitri’s going to do any good when it comes to interrogation?”

She looked back at Felix in time to see his grimace as he muttered, “Not a chance.” 

They raced back through the gates, and she asked the closest Knight of Seiros where they took the prisoner. They were pointed in the direction of the Knight’s Hall, and she and Felix both took off at a sprint. Gilbert stood outside the closed door with his arms folded behind his back and a telling grimace written over his features.

“Your Grace,” he bowed as she approached, “His Highness is interrogating the commander. It would be best if—” A bloodcurdling scream rang through the door and she glared at Gilbert.

She sternly said, “Yes, interrogating.” Gilbert bowed his head as a frown pulled at his lips. “I’m going in. You and Felix stay out here.”

Felix hissed, “Byleth—”

“Stay out here.” She turned her narrowed gaze on both men, Gibert dipped his head in compliance while Felix crossed his arms and scoffed. He was worried, for obvious reasons, but she wouldn’t subject him to Dimitri when he was like this, or risk Felix saying something to anger him further.

Dimitri didn’t look to her as she entered, instead the prince glared down at the enemy general on his knees before him as he put pressure on the wound she had inflicted on his shoulder. General Bergliez whimpered, “I have family waiting for me… please… I cannot die here.”

Dimitri laughed cruelly and grabbed the man’s hair to lift his face to him. “A beast of your depravity prattling on about family? How amusing.”

“Dimitri…” she softly called his name, but he paid her no attention.

“As though you could understand… such a thing as love… you heartless monster!” The general spit in Dimitri’s face as her chest began to ache.

“You are a monster too, General,” Dimitri sneered, “You have just yet to realize it. A monster who thinks he is a man… how despicable.” More pressure was placed on the general’s wound, making him cry out in pain. “As a general you must have claimed countless souls without a shred of mercy. Do you still remember the sounds of them begging, just as you do now? Or now that your life is at its end, will you cling to the lie that your hands are not stained red with blood?”

The general’s voice was conflicted as he panted, “This… this is war. I did what I had to for the Empire… for the people… for my family!”

Dimitri chuckled mirthlessly and dropped the general hair, causing the man to sit back on his heels as he bent forward in pain. “So, you are piling up corpses for the people and for your family. And I am doing the same for the salvation of the dead…”

She cried out for him to stop and stepped forward as he kicked the enemy general’s chest, causing him to sprawl back on the stone floor with a wheezing cough. He again paid her no mind, instead growling, “After all is said and done, we are both murderers. Both stained. Both monsters.” 

He placed a foot on the general’s chest as he lifted his head and shouted, “You’re wrong!” 

He bent over the man, and she saw dark brown eyes widen in horror as he growled, “Am I? I can smell the rotting flesh on upon your hands even now, General.”

“ENOUGH!” Came the general’s desperate cry as Dimitri loomed over him. “That’s enough!”

“I won’t kill you right away, my fellow monster. Unless you object to watching your friends die… one… by… one.” He pulled a knife from his belt and placed it against the enemy’s cheek as he sneered, “If so, I will do you the service of cutting out your eyes first so that—”

She had had enough. She stepped forward and plunged her sword through the general’s chest, killing him. She thought he croaked out a name, but she didn’t attempt to decipher it as she turned to her fallen prince.

He turned on her with a wild look in his eye as he growled, “What is the meaning of this?!”

“This is what you have become?” She met his gaze and they stared at each other for several tense moments. “I taught you better than this. I taught you how to kill quickly so your enemies do not suffer.” She used a firm commanding tone as she said, “We DO NOT torture. I don’t care who you are, I will not fight for an army that does. Do you hear me?” She narrowed her eyes and wiped her sword before she sheathed it.

Dimitri did not respond to her demand, he only stared at her with a look of utter disdain. If he hadn’t died for her an hour ago, she would believe he hated her. She might have even believed he was truly lost. She sighed, fighting back her emotions as she whispered, “I miss the Dimitri I once knew.”

He stalked up to her, nostrils flaring and eye narrowed dangerously, and yelled, “The Dimitri you once knew is dead! All that remains is the repulsive, blood-stained monster you see before you!” His voice wavered the slightest bit and his tone became almost pleading as he cried, “If you do not approve of what I have become, then kill me!” 

She took an involuntary step back as her unbeating heart sunk into her stomach like a stone. Was that all it was? He was willing to die for her, simply because he does not wish to live anymore? He called himself repulsive and blood-stained, does that mean he hates what he has become? Is Dima really in there at all?

He would not take her silence for a moment longer. Fury flared in his features as he shoved her against the wall near the door. She involuntarily cried out as her head hit the stone wall, and his grip on her upper arms tightened as he lifted her until she was at his eye level. His face came up close to hers, so close that she couldn’t see anything but his lone blue eye and eye patch as he growled with increasing volume, “If you insist you cannot… then I will continue to use you and your friends until the flesh falls from your bones!”

The door burst open and Felix stormed in with his sword drawn. “Get your hands off her, Boar!” 

Gilbert stomped in soon after and looked dismayed as he murmured, “Your Highness.” 

“And what will you do if I don’t?” Dimitri jeered as he turned his head to look at Felix. 

“Don’t test me, Boar. My brother may have died for you,” Dimitri’s eye widened ever so slightly as Felix’s sword pressed against his throat, “but I’m not scared to cut the beast down if necessary. Now I won’t ask again… get your hands off of her.”

For a moment the two men glared at each other, and she worried that Dimitri might take Felix up on his offer. She made the decision for him. She brought her knee up with all the force she could muster right into Dimitri’s groin. His grip on her loosened enough in his surprise that he set her back on the ground. She freed an arm and brought it back to punch him in the nose. A solid crack sounded out, followed by the sound of Dimitri’s growled cursing as he stepped back holding his face.

“I know you’re still you, Dimitri,” she firmly said as she closed the distance between them, “so I will not let you destroy those I love… and that still includes you.”

She kept her head held high as she turned and walked out of the room, blocking out the sound of Dimitri’s rage-filled shouts as she stormed out. Footsteps followed her, and she didn’t have to look back to know that Felix was following her. She kept walking all the way up the third floor and unlocked the door to her room, opening it with a loud bang as it hit the stone wall behind it. Felix must have shut it behind her, because she heard it shut with a soft click. As soon as it did, she fell to her knees and dropped her head into her hands, fighting off the urge to sob.

Dimitri had died for her on the battlefield. He had looked into her face and begged for her forgiveness, only to threaten her and their friends an hour later. He doesn’t remember jumping in front of her, and taking that blow for her. He doesn’t remember what she does. What was she supposed to do? She couldn’t give up on him, she just couldn’t. 

A hand came to rest on her shoulder, and she turned to lift her arms and wrap them around Felix’s neck. After he hesitantly returned her embrace, she whispered into his neck, “He died for me today. He begged me for forgiveness as he took his last breath, only to threaten all of you an hour later.” She took a shuddering breath and admitted, “I don’t know what to do.” 

Felix didn’t say anything, but she wasn’t really expecting him to. Instead he just held her as she fought to take steadying breaths through the lump in her throat. A knock sounded at the door, and she reluctantly unraveled herself from his hold as she forced her features into neutrality. She pulled it open to find a distraught Gilbert, with a thoroughly confused Sylvain behind him. 

“Are you alright, Your Grace?” Gilbert looked her over carefully, his expression guarded.

“I’ll be fine, Gilbert. I appreciate you coming to check on me.”

“Of course.” He bowed deeply and cleared his throat before saying, “I feel we should hold a council meeting to decide what our next course of action should be.”

She successfully fought the urge to sigh in disappointment. Instead of saying “Can’t I just have a moment to deal with the fact that my friend just threatened my life and the life of all of my loved ones?” she said, “Would you tell the others to get cleaned up and eat before we meet in the Cardinal’s Room in two hours?” 

“As you wish, Your Grace.” He bowed deeply again, looked her over once more, and then turned to walk down the stairs.

Sylvain waited for Gilbert to be further away before asking, “What happened?”

Felix answered before she was able to. “The boar attacked her.” Rather than being angry as she would have assumed, his tone was void of emotion. When she turned back to look at him, she noticed an almost vacant look in his eye as he stared at the wall. Felix may scream about Dimitri being a beast every chance he gets, but he threatened one of his dearest childhood friends today. She couldn’t imagine what was going through his mind right now.

Sylvain’s hands were grasping her shoulders before she turned back toward him. His tone was riddled with worry as he asked, “Are you okay? Did he hurt you?”

“Not really,” she murmured as she leaned her forehead against his breastplate, “but my hand kind of hurts.”

Felix scoffed half-heartedly and muttered, “I’m pretty sure you broke his nose.” One of Sylvain’s hands moved up to hold the back of her head as he held her.

She turned her head enough to ask, “Are either of you injured?” Both assured her that they were fine, and she sunk against Sylvain, appreciating his hold, even if she wished that she felt him rather than his armor.

Two hours later she found herself in the Cardinal’s Room, sitting at the head of the table as Flayn worked on healing her hand. It ended up hurting a bit more than she thought once she had come down from the high of the battle and her fight with Dimitri afterwards. The green haired healer scurried out of the room to grab bandages for her hand as Gilbert stood to address the room. “We managed to repel the Imperial army, but I anticipate a second and third wave over the coming weeks… With our current forces, we’ll have our hands full just defending.”

Sylvain sighed heavily and commented, “Frankly, it’s a miracle we were able to repel the Imperial Army with the few units and resources we do have.”

“We owe Yuri for our victory,” she firmly stated as she stared at her injured hand on the table. She could feel Dimitri’s eye on her from his standard seat near the door. “We wouldn’t have been able to pull it off without his plan.”

As Seteth announced that Yuri had indeed proved himself a valuable ally, Balthus leaned over her shoulder and whispered, “Where is the boss?” 

She whispered back, “He’s looking into something for me. He should be back this evening.” Balthus nodded in acknowledgment and stood back up against the wall behind her.

Annette chimed in, “We should probably contact Lord Rodrigue, Margrave Gautier, and Count Galatea right away to request backup.”

Gilbert put a hand to his chin and thoughtfully said, “They are in a difficult position as all of them have suffered invasions by the Dukedom.” 

“More and more troops were making their way to Fraldarius to join the rebellion before I left,” Felix added, “If my old man can spare them, our forces would grow considerably.”

“Fraldarius…” Dimitri’s tone held an emotion she couldn’t quite pin down, but became bored when he added, “so, Rodrigue is still alive, is he?” Dimitri had said Rodrigue was like a second father to him, five years ago. Hearing him speak this way about him was enough to make her chest ache, though she expected he was being gruff on purpose. 

She glanced to Felix as he snorted and haughtily said, “I wonder what my old man will say when he sees you now. That spectacle alone would be worth the trip.” Dimitri turned his head away as he crossed his arms firmly across his chest. She couldn’t help feeling that she didn’t want to be there when that happened. She was fond of Rodrigue, and she knew he would be even more heartbroken than she currently was.

Gilbert looked on their interaction with uneasy before saying, “We should send word with our fastest messengers informing them that His Highness is alive. With the current state of things, we would be helpless without his support.”

She tried not to sound too eager as she chimed in, “I could go and request aid?” The thought of being on the road, away from the stress of the monastery, was appealing. However, Seteth quickly dashed that hope.

The advisor firmly said, “As much as I’m sure that would help convince them to lend aid, we simply cannot spare you. Having you here is vital right now.”

“Their children then?” She looked to Felix, Sylvain, and Ingrid. “Perhaps you three could go and speak with your parents? I would trust the three of you more than any messenger, and they might respond favorably to you.”

Felix’s nose wrinkled in distaste as Sylvain’s eyes widened in something like alarm, but she had been somewhat prepared for those reactions. The one she didn’t expect was Ingrid’s bowed head as she answered, “Of course, Professor.” Something in her tone was worrisome, and Byleth made a mental note to speak with her later.

“That is a sound plan, Your Grace.” Gilbert nodded firmly and looked to Felix and Sylvain to see their hesitant nods of agreement. Felix’s glare told her she was going to be in for another lecture. Gilbert then turned to Dimitri and asked, “Your Highness, may I ask what your next plan of attack is? Should we dispatch our troops to the Kingdom capital or to the Imperial capital?”

Dimitri’s eye rested on her, almost in challenge as he said, “We will take the Imperial capital. There, I will kill her. We end the war and we chase away the lingering regrets of the dead. Nothing could be more to the point.”

Annette shook her head as she nervously murmured, “That may be true, but don’t forget that your people need our help right now…”

Ingrid nodded in agreement. “Your Highness… I hate them too. But the citizens of Fhirdiad have long awaited your return.”

Ashe put a hand to his chin and supplied a differing opinion, much to her surprise. “Defeating Edelgard would put an end to the war. That would benefit the Kingdom as well.”

“Yeah,” Leonie smacked her fist into her palm, “It’s time to make Edelgard pay for all the death and destruction she’s caused.” Dorothea bowed her head solemnly as Bernadetta looked down at her lap nervously. She glanced over to Linhardt, but it seemed like he was asleep. Caspar was watching the conversation with a conflicted look on his face. She really needed to take some time with the former Black Eagles to see how they were handling all of this.

Mercedes tilted her head to her fist as she softly added, “We still need to look for Lady Rhea, so I agree that we should get to Enbarr as soon as possible.”

Seteth turned to her and said, “The Knights of Seiros are under your command, Byleth. Whatever you decide, we shall follow.”

All eyes eagerly turned to her, and she fought back the urge to melt into her seat. She glanced toward Dimitri, who’s eye hadn’t left her face since the topic had been brought to the table. She knew that strategically it made more sense to head to Fhirdiad. It would eliminate the threat on the rebels, freeing more troops to march on Enbarr. However, she also knew that Dimitri was going to march toward Enbarr either way. The Kingdom troops would follow him, no matter what she said, and that would potentially include her students. Not to mention the fact that liberating Fhirdiad would mean nothing without a rightful king to place on the throne.

She calmly said, “I would like to ponder it further. Our first action should—”

Dimitri stood and growled, “Marching on Enbarr is the only way.”

She ignored him, instead looking to the others as she continued, “—be reaching out to houses Fraldarius, Gautier, and Galatea for aid. We can make any further decisions once we know what resources we have.” Dimitri huffed in frustration and stormed out of the room.

Gilbert nodded and said, “I feel that is a wise decision, Your Grace. All of this deliberation means nothing if we are unable to secure additional forces.”

She looked to the rest of the room and said, “Well done today. Go and get some rest, you all deserve it.” She waved her hand in dismissal, but as the others began to filter out, Sylvain, Felix, and Ingrid walked toward her. It seemed she was going to have two difficult conversations at the same time.

“I’m not just leaving you here,” Felix crossed his arms and narrowed his eyes at her, “especially after what just happened with the boar.”

In a softer tone Sylvain said, “Are you sure you want us to go, By?” 

“I meant what I said. I trust you three more than I trust a random messenger, and your fathers will listen to you.”

“Professor,” Ingrid hesitantly said, “I will do whatever you order me to, but I would like to request permission to stay at the monastery.” Both Felix and Sylvain looked at her in surprise and Byleth lifted an eyebrow, looking for further information. The normally confident woman folded her hands together and looked down at them as she hesitantly said, “My father and I did not part on the best of terms. Right before I left, we fought and…” she trailed off as she looked to the side.

Byleth turned to Felix and Sylvain and said, “Would you two go to my room? I’ll be there in a few minutes, and we can discuss this more then.” They looked at each other, and then at Ingrid, before Sylvain put a hand out to grab Felix’s arm and pull him toward the door. 

She stepped up to put a soft arm on the pegasus knight’s arm and said, “Would you like to talk about it, Ingrid?”

The blonde would not raise her eyes to meet Byleth’s as she softly said, “It is petty to worry over such things in a time of war, but I fear my feelings of confliction have only become worse over the last five years.”

Byleth pursed her lips before clarifying, “You are speaking of your desire to become a knight, but also please your father by marrying into a wealthy house?” When Ingrid nodded, Byleth immediately said, “It is not petty to have worries about your future.”

Ingrid reached a hand up to rub the opposite arm nervously, “Feeling such a sense of inner turmoil while a war rages on and others are fighting with all they have, well… it feels a little selfish.” 

“Ingrid,” Byleth waited for her former student to meet her gaze, “you may be fighting for the future of the Kingdom of Faerghus, but you are also fighting for your own future.” She took the blonde’s hand between hers before softly saying, “It is not selfish to have ambitions, even if you still desire to help your family.”

Ingrid looked at her with misty eyes. “Truthfully, I do not know if I can face my father. Galatea territory has suffered much due to the war, and we fought about my duties to my family just before I traveled here. I felt I could not risk staying in Galatea if there was a chance His Highness was alive. I was so heartbroken when his execution was announced. I felt that I had failed my friend, my country, and… Glenn.” She looked back down at her feet. “It may seem foolish, but I feel a sense of duty to stay here with His Highness. I know that he is not himself right now, but I wish to remain by his side. If I go home…”

When she trailed off again, Byleth supplied, “Your father might try to stop you.” Ingrid nodded as she continued to stare at her feet. “Then I will speak with Felix and Sylvain and ask them to go by themselves.”

Ingrid’s head quickly raised to look at her. “Are you sure, Professor?”

“Of course,” she nodded firmly, “And I won’t say too much to them. This will stay between us.” 

Ingrid sighed in relief as the stiffness of her shoulders melted. “Thank you, Professor. Thank you so much.” 

Byleth chuckled affectionately and pulled the nervous woman into a hug. “I know I am not your teacher anymore, but I still consider us friends. And as your friend, I would like to help you achieve whatever dream you wish to pursue. That is true whether you decide you wish to honor your father’s wishes, or to pursue knighthood. I’ll be on your side no matter what.”

Ingrid clutched her tightly as she sniffled and said, “I do not want to disappoint him, Professor. I haven’t even been able to summon the courage to tell him my dream of becoming a knight. He’s sacrificed so much for me, and he’s never complained. I cannot shun my duty as a noble, but the thought of marrying solely for the gain of my house is…” she cut off with a soft sob.

“It’s okay to feel this way. Try not to tell yourself otherwise.” She rubbed her hand along Ingrid’s back. “We’ll get you through this war, and then you can make your decision.” 

“Is everything alright?” Flayn’s soft voice called from the door. Byleth had almost forgotten that the girl had run to grab bandages for her hand. Ingrid straightened immediately and ran her sleeve over her cheeks to clear them of her tears.

“Yes, thank you Flayn.” Byleth smiled at her, and she quickly walked over to wrap her hand.

“I wasn’t aware you had been harmed in battle, Professor.” Ingrid looked at her quizzically. 

“Unfortunately, this is not from battle.” Flayn quickly wrapped her hand and urged her not to move it too much, citing that the sprain in her hand could become worse.

“What happened?” Ingrid sighed in exasperation and quickly said, “Don’t tell me it’s Felix or Sylvain. I’m going to—”

Byleth snorted in amusement before quickly sobering. “No, it wasn’t them. Dimitri got violent for a moment, but I handled it.”

“That was you?” Ingrid’s eyes widened and Byleth briefly wondered if she would be scandalized by the whole thing. She did punch the Crowned Prince of Faerghus, and Dimitri’s face had already begun forming a spectacular bruise when he walked into the Cardinal’s Room. 

She was surprised when instead of chiding her, Ingrid said, “He always thought so highly of you in the Academy. It’s so strange that he acts this way toward you now.” The slightest frown pulled at her lips as she put a hand to her chin.

Byleth firmly said, “I’m not giving up on him.” 

“It’s heartening to hear you say that, Professor.” The relief was evident in Ingrid’s features, and she wondered if she should be more open with the others about it as well. “If there is anything I can do to help, please don’t hesitate to tell me.”

“I won’t.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I pictured the armor that Seteth had commissioned as a mix between the Enlightened One outfit (ew) and Seiros' get up (actually kinda hot but not really Byleth's aesthetic). 
> 
> Felix is struggling in the "being a good friend" department and it's driving me crazy. But let's be real... he always struggles with that.
> 
> Also... I went on a little writing retreat this week. (i.e. sitting in a quiet hotel room instead of being at my crazy household that is actually my work because I'm a nanny.) I initially planned to get ahead on this fic and finish up a different one, but ended up writing fifty pages for two new fics. Obviously I hate myself. Brain worms, man! 
> 
> I tell you all this because updates might slow. I'm just trying to follow wherever my brain goes... even though it jumps around like a toddler on sugar. Thanks for your patience!


	14. The Mess I Made

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The emotional rollercoaster of a night that the trio has before Felix and Sylvain set off for Faerghus.
> 
> Chapter title inspired by "The Mess I Made" by Parachute
> 
> Warning of mild sexual content.

~Sylvain~

They were awkwardly sitting in Byleth’s room for what felt like forever. Felix was pacing in the office, while Sylvain sat at the tea table, piled high with maps and parchment, in the bedroom.   
Felix had hardly spoken to him since the night when they almost kissed in the training grounds. It had been an intense day for his swordsman, and it had ended with Byleth outing the fact that Sylvain was in love with him. Sylvain could understand that it was overwhelming for him, but it hurt that Felix was ignoring him. Maybe ignoring wasn’t the right word. Maybe it was closer to putting distance between them, but either way it hurt. Now the fact that Byleth was asking them to travel together was just… not a great idea.

Byleth walked in looking a little worse for wear. She looked exhausted, with bags under her eyes and a blankness in her stare before her eyes landed on him. There was the slightest upturn of her mouth as she waved in greeting, threw her coat onto the bed, and sank into the other chair at the tea table with an inelegance that would have made him laugh if he wasn’t so concerned about her. 

She asked, “Where’s Felix?”

“I’m here.” Felix walked in with his arms crossed and leaned his shoulder against the door frame. “I still think it’s a stupid idea for us to leave.”

“Yeah… about that,” Byleth paused and stared down at her hands as she interlocked her fingers on the crowded table, “It’s going to be just the two of you. Ingrid is going to stay here.”

Sylvain worriedly asked, “Is she okay?” 

The corner of Byleth’s eyes crinkled at the corners as she reached across the table to take his hand. “She’s fine.” She looked down at their hands and then quickly took her hand back as she sank back in her chair. “It’s a personal thing, but I think that it would be better if it was just the two of you anyway. Maybe the two of you can…” she trailed off as she looked off to the side, “I don’t know. Figure things out? Have some time alone?” 

Felix snorted derisively and grumbled, “You’ve got to be kidding me.”

She cast him a sharp look as she sternly added, “Either way I need you guys to go. The additional troops are vital, and I’m sure your fathers would like an update on what is happening. Spies are still a valid concern, and this REALLY needs to happen if we want to make a stand against Edelgard.” She grimaced at the name and put a bandaged hand to her forehead before muttering, “I’d go myself, but I’m stuck here.”

There was an awkward silence between them until Sylvain looked at Felix and suggested, “I could go. You can stay here while I deal with our fathers.”

“You’re not traveling by yourself,” Felix hissed through clenched teeth, “The roads are too dangerous.”

“Then I’ll ask Ashe to come with me,” he replied with a carefully even tone, trying not to upset Felix further, “I’m sure he’ll want to check in with his siblings anyway.” He turned to Byleth and asked, “Could I do that? Could I take—”

Felix groaned in what must have been frustration and then grumbled, “Fine. I’ll go.” He and Byleth both looked toward Felix, and his cheeks tinged pink under the weight of their stares. He crossed his arms and griped, “I’m not going to make you deal with our fathers by yourself.”

Byleth stood and tentatively put a hand on Felix’s upper arm. “Maybe you should… talk to your father? I know it’s hard, but--”

Felix ripped his arm away and yelled, “Would you stop meddling?! None of this is your business.”

“Right,” Byleth growled dangerously, “why would I care about your relationship with your father? What motivation could I have to want what’s best for you? To want you to talk to your father about the things he said that upset you and now you feel like you can’t move past.”

“The old man is a fool who believes chivalry and honor are the only things worth achieving in this life,” Felix bitterly spat, “What point is there in talking to him?”

“He’s your father!” Byleth desperately cried, “He cares about you, worries for you. You are fortunate to still have him, and at any moment he could be—”

“Yes, I know,” Felix ranted, making Byleth’s eyes narrow further, “There’s a war going on and you have no idea if the next day is promised… I know all of that. I’ve been fighting it for the last five years!” He huffed a breathe out of his nose and then pointed at her as he brusquely added, “My relationship with my father, my relationship with Sylvain, none of that is yours to worry over. It’s none of your business, so stop—"

“You know what?” Byleth’s voice lowered dangerously as she clenched her fists at her sides. “Fine. It’s not my business? Then I’m done with this. Have fun in Faerghus.” She walked around and grabbed her coat from the bed before turning toward the door.

Felix outwardly showed his immediate remorse. He grabbed her arm and pleaded, “Wait… Byleth…” 

Byleth narrowed her eyes and gritted out, “When you come back, you had better be ready to _at least_ respect me as your commander.”

“Please! I didn’t mean to—” Felix didn’t get a chance to finish. Byleth ripped her arm away and stormed out of her own room with a loud slam of the door. 

Heavy silence settled over them as Felix stood frozen in place, watching the door like Byleth might reappear. Sylvain couldn’t help thinking that she had a point. Felix was prickly as a person, it was basically a character trait at this point, but it had hit a new level with Byleth ever since she had returned. It was obvious to Sylvain that Felix was worried about her, but he seemed to perpetually be in a state of shoving his foot in his mouth and coming off as a total asshole.

“That was…” he sighed and rubbed the back of his neck before deciding on saying, “impressive.”

“Would you shut up?!” Tears were gathered in the corners of Felix’s eyes when he whirled around to face him. Alarm shot through him, and Sylvain stood up immediately and moved to try and comfort him, but was shoved away. Felix dragged his sleeve over his face with a frustrated sound and turned away. 

“Why do you keep treating her like that, Fe? I don’t understand? She’s just trying to help.”

“Because that’s what I do,” Felix’s shout held an edge of something frantic, “I say things that hurt people because that’s all I know how to fucking do!”

“Fe… that’s not true,” he tried to assure the swordsman. He couldn’t see Felix’s face, but his shoulders were still rigidly set as he faced the door. It was enough to tell him he hadn’t been convincing enough.

“It is,” Felix mumbled as he put a hand to his forehead, before he quietly added, “We’re leaving at dawn.” 

He started to walk toward the door and Sylvain called, “Are you going to talk to By before we leave?”

Felix stopped, a hand on the doorknob, and bowed his head. “No,” he murmured, “it’s probably best if I stay away.” He then left with a soft click of the latch.

Sylvain stood in the center of Byleth’s room and stared at the door. After almost five years of mourning By while they fought for their lives and their lands, they finally had her back. From the outside, it looked like things had never been better, but Sylvain felt like everything was shattering around him. 

Byleth was under so much pressure, what with dreams, visions, leadership, and the emotional ramifications of having slept for almost half a decade. Not to mention the fear and insecurity she felt when it came to her relationship with the goddess, and what exactly she had become. Felix had been a complete mess ever since they got here, biting and snarling one moment, and trying to calm her the next. It was like he couldn’t decide what he wanted. 

Sylvain didn’t know what he wanted either, but he knew it wasn’t this.

He left Byleth’s room behind, rounding the corner near the training grounds and the bathhouse, and stopped at the bottom of the stairs that led to Byleth’s old quarters. The door was gone, a large slab of wood propped up over the doorway in an effort to keep the elements out of the room until the door and furniture could be replaced. He glanced around to make sure that no one was watching, and shifted the plank of wood out of the way. 

He walked in and glanced around the now empty room, before his eyes were drawn to the floor in front of him. He could almost picture the three of them as they had been the night before the fall of the monastery. Byleth pressed against his front, holding Felix’s hand as she softly sang a song that he couldn’t quite remember. Even with all of the anxiety that he had felt with the upcoming attack, that night was a memory that his mind had clung to over the next five years of fighting.

His vision blurred as his throat tightened. _“It’s all your fault, you know,”_ that same haunting Miklan voice whispered in the back of his mind, _“You can’t decide what you want, and now you are going to lose both of them.”_ The voice laughed, a deep rumble so like the ones from those nights when Miklan would get angry and drunk before sneaking into his room. _“You honestly think you deserve either of them? You think either of them would be happy with you? Would love you? You’re nothing. Just a spoiled piece of—_

“Sylvain?” He whipped around, dragging an arm across his face as he plastered on a smile. Mercedes stood in the doorway, her eyebrows furrowed and a slight frown pulling at her lips. “Are you alright?”

“Yeah,” he chirped before clearing his throat, “must be all the dust, you know?”

She sighed and said, “I know you’re avoiding the question, Sylvain. I can hear it in your voice.” Mercedes light eyes darted around the room before her frown became deeper. She softly asked, “Why are you in here, anyway?” How did she always manage to call him on his bullshit? Has he lost his touch?

He chuckled nervously and reached up to rub a hand along the back of his neck. “I got to thinking about the Academy days, and I guess I came here without really realizing it.”

Mercedes hummed softly as she clasped her hands in front of her delicately, her eyes held a glint he couldn’t quite decipher. “I was just about to go and meet with Dorothea, would you like to come and keep us company?”

“Having the honor of keeping two lovely ladies company?” he hated how easily the words rolled off of his tongue, “I must be the luckiest man in all of Fodlan.” Mercedes and Dorothea were two of the people who easily penetrated his normal defenses, and he felt anxious at the idea of being in a room with the two of them in the state he was currently in. But her smile was gentle as she extended a hand to him, and he knew she only wanted what was best for him. How could he not trust Mercedes? She was practically a saint!

He took her hand, tucking it around his arm as they walked out of Byleth’s old room, moving the board back the way he had found it as they left. They walked in companionable silence down the pathway, but came to a stop as Byleth came walking towards them with Linhardt sitting on her back in a piggyback hold. She frowned slightly when she saw him, and he longed for the days when it was always a slight upturn of her mouth and a gleam in her eye.

“Professor,” Mercedes giggled slightly as Linhardt lifted his head to give them a rather smug but sleepy looking smile, “where are you and Linhardt heading off to?”

Linhardt answered before Byleth, who looked a little lost in thought, could. “Byleth woke me from my nap to tell me she has a surprise for me,” Linhardt’s big blue eyes landed on him before flicking back to Mercedes, “The trouble is, I was so very tired. Thankfully she offered to carry me wherever this secret place we’re going is.” He then lowered his head to her shoulder again with a tired sigh.

Mercedes shook her head and giggled affectionately, “I’m sure she did, Linhardt. Sylvain and I were just about to go and have a nice chat with Dorothea.” 

Brilliant green eyes darted to his as Byleth repositioned Linhardt on her back. “Have you and Felix decided when you are leaving yet?”

“We’ll leave at dawn,” he reported and she nodded slowly, “It should be about two days’ travel to Fraldarius, and we’ll speak with Rodrigue about your request for troops and resources. I’m thinking we should be back in a little over a week’s time if all goes well.” He paused to consider it, and then added, “Though I suppose that will depend on a couple different factors. I may make the extra trek up to Gautier to get my battalion. An extra fifty men should come in handy immediately, and I trust their skills.”

She nodded sagely and said, “That would be very helpful.” She paused for a moment, her lips set in a thin line, before she softly added, “Please be safe in your travels.”

“We will be back before you know it, By.” He said it with all of the cheeriness he could muster, but it didn’t have the intended affect. Sadness flickered briefly before she nodded in farewell to both he and Mercedes and continued on down the path.

Mercedes lightly squeezed the crook of his arm where he still held her hand. “You and Felix are traveling to request aid from your fathers? Is Ingrid no longer traveling with you?”

He cleared his throat lightly as he nodded, resuming their walk toward Dorothea’s room, “Ingrid requested permission to stay at the monastery. I’m not exactly sure why, By just said she had some personal reasons.”

“She’s been in the cathedral watching over His Highness a lot,” Mercedes frowned slightly, “I’m quite worried about her. I think she blames herself for the way that he has become.”

He groaned slightly before letting out a broken chuckle. “I understand the feeling. We grew up together, so we could easily see that something was off with him after the Tragedy of Duscur,” he paused, thinking over all that Byleth had told them of that day, “I think all three of us feel like maybe if we had done something sooner, perhaps it wouldn’t have gotten this bad.”

Mercedes hummed thoughtfully as she raised a hand to knock on Dorothea’s door. When he chanced a glance down, he startled slightly at the amount of grief her features held. “It is so terrible, feeling that we have let others down. The four of you have suffered much, so it is easy to get distracted in your own problems.” She bowed her head and whispered, “If only we could turn back the hands of time, maybe then we could save those that needed saving. However, that is impossible, so we must bear the weight of it ourselves.”

He whispered, “Mercedes…” He turned to face her fully and try to get more answers to what was obviously plaguing her, but the door flew open right at that moment and a smiling Dorothea greeted them. The sorrow in Mercedes features evaporated, replaced by the usual peaceful grace that she normally exuded. What was Mercedes carrying the weight of? Had she always been, and he had failed to notice it?

Dorothea exclaimed, “Sylvie! Are you coming to hang out with us?” 

“I found him in the Professor’s old quarters,” Mercedes explained with an interesting gleam in her eye, “I figured he could keep us company before he leaves for Fraldarius territory tomorrow morning. Do you mind?”

Dorothea sent him a knowing glance, which he ignored in favor of staring at his shoes, “Not at all. Come on in! Bernie’s here, too.”

“You are going to Fraldarius tomorrow?” Bernadetta’s faint voice called from inside the room.

“Yeah,” he paused and furrowed his brows, “Do you want to come with us? I’m sure that By would—”

“No,” Bernadetta firmly said as she clenched her hands into fists on her knees, “I’m done running and hiding. I’m going to stay and help the Professor in any way I can. This war needs to end.” The last word was strained as her lower lip trembled, but she shook her head and looked up at him with determined grey eyes. “Will you tell Rodrigue and Gloriana I said hello, though? I really do miss them.”

“Sure, Bernadetta.” He couldn’t help but smile down at her. She really had come so far over the last couple of years. He had no part in it, but he still felt immensely proud of her. “Should we bring anything back for you?”

Her eyes lit up for a moment and she quickly stood from the bed. She turned to Dorothea and blurted out, “I’ll be right back,” before rushing out of the room. Dorothea chuckled affectionately and looked out after her.

She shook her head and glanced up at him. “She’s come so far. I wish I could tell Lord and Lady Fraldarius, thank you. She sings their praises every chance she gets, and I know most nobles wouldn’t have taken the risk of taking her in without having something in it for them.”

“Rodrigue and Gloriana have always been some of the good ones,” he sighed as he sat down in her desk chair, “It’s been that way ever since we were kids. If all nobility were like them, Fodlan probably wouldn’t be in this mess.”

Dorothea chuckled mirthlessly and shook her head as her eyes took on a fiery gleam, “Then how in the goddess’ name did Felix turn out the way he is? That boy’s tongue is sharper than his sword. I mean, where does he get off, talking to Byleth like that in a war council meeting, making her look bad in front of everybody? Doesn’t he get that she’s going to have enough trouble as a commoner thrust into this position as it is?” Her eyes widened for a moment before she murmured, “Sorry. I shouldn’t have said that.”

He attempted to clear the lump that was forming in his throat and looked down at the floor. “No, I get what you’re saying, though he wasn’t always like that.” He sighed wearily, his thoughts from earlier resurfacing as he muttered, “When we were kids, he was so carefree and kind. Back then he was much more willing to show everyone what a big heart he has. He changed a lot after his older brother died.”

“Oh,” Dorothea slumped slightly, her tone becoming more solemn, “I didn’t know he had an older brother.”

Mercedes softly asked, “How did he die?”

“Glenn was part of His Highness’ personal guard when they went to Duscur,” He bowed his head further as he explained, “He died trying to protect His Highness.”

“Wait,” Mercedes put her hand over her mouth with wide misty eyes, “Ingrid’s Glenn was Felix’s older brother? Ingrid was going to be Felix’s sister-in-law? How did I never know this?”

“Felix doesn’t like talking about it, but ever since then he’s been different. Stuff like that changes people, you know?” He paused and then added, “Not that it’s any excuse for how he’s been acting. He’s been even angrier lately, ever since we came back to the monastery and found Byleth and His Highness alive. It’s so frustrating that he won’t just talk to me about it.” He groaned in frustration and ran a hand through his hair.

“You two have always been so close,” Dorothea said in a careful tone, “To be honest, I’ve always sort of envied what you guys had. It would be nice to have someone who had known you your whole life. Someone who always stuck by your side, even when things got hard, like you do for Felix.” 

“Well, you have us now,” Mercedes chimed as she grabbed the songstress’ hand, “And we’ll be with you no matter what. Right, Sylvain?” She looked up at him with a kind smile.

“Yeah, of course,” he genuinely insisted as he leaned over to pat Dorothea’s knee. “You don’t have to know someone their whole life to always stick by them. You just have to find people you can rely on.” A trickle of guilt crept into his chest as he thought of Ingrid’s tone from the meeting earlier. He should really try and check on her, and let her know that she can talk to him if she needs to.

“You’re sweet,” Dorothea cooed in a saccharine tone, “but I’m afraid I’m not always going to be as useful as I am now. That’s why as soon as this ugly war is over, I’ll need to find someone to take good care of me.” A sharp smile and a cool look to the side proceeded her adding, “Preferably a noble with plenty of money to spare.” 

“Oh,” Mercedes chided with a soft frown, “you don’t mean that.”

Dorothea shrugged as she elegantly threw her hair over her shoulder. “Don’t I?” She covered her mouth with an insincere laugh. “Though, Byleth has said that if I can’t find anyone, she’ll take care of me into my old age,” she winked at Sylvain, “and I can think of worse people to end up with.” 

“That does sound like something she would say,” he mumbled as he shook his head, “Knowing her, she probably meant it, too.”

Bernadetta burst through the door and they all turned to look at her. “Here,” she thrust a piece of parchment in his face and shook it frantically, “will you give this to Gloriana?” 

“Sure, Bernadetta,” he tucked it into the inside pocket of his jacket, “everything okay?”

“Yeah,” she nodded excitedly as she sat down beside Dorothea. “I’m asking her to send me some of my crafting stuff. You know, so I can have something to do when I’m not working on repairs, or training. Maybe some extra clothes, too. I didn’t bring much.” 

He furrowed his brow in thought and murmured, “That’s a good point. I should talk to Annette, Ashe, and Lin to see if they need anything from Gautier. We’ll probably be here until the war ends, and who knows how long that will take.” He put a hand to his forehead and added, “This trip might take longer than I thought.”

“It’s getting pretty late,” Mercedes worriedly said, “especially if you’re leaving at dawn. Do you have everything prepared for your journey?”

“No,” he groaned as he ran a hand through his hair, “it’s been fun to sit and chat, but I should probably go and get some things together.”

“Why don’t I walk you to your room,” Dorothea cooed with a pointed look his direction. He opened his mouth to protest, but sighed in resignation and then nodded. Dorothea was the only one who really knew what was going on with him, and he could really use the opportunity to talk before having to travel with Felix alone for several days.

They walked in silence, with her hand clutched in the crook of his arm as Mercedes had been. When they reached his room, she followed him in and shut the door behind them. “So, traveling with Felix for a few days…” Dorothea said in a hesitant tone.

“It’s all such a mess,” he groaned as he flopped back on his bed and put his arm over his face. “You have no idea, Thea. It’s all so messed up, and I don’t know what to do.”

“I could tell something was up,” she hummed as she walked over to sit beside him, “Mercie could too, though I don’t think she knows what it’s about.”

“You guys always see right through me,” he whined exaggeratedly, “am I losing my touch?”

“Probably,” she said sarcastically before nudging him with a soft giggle, “you’re getting soft. That’s not necessarily a bad thing, though.” She sighed heavily and then asked, “Are you going to be able to make it through this trip?”

“I have NO idea,” he sighed. “Byleth saw us almost kiss the other day,” Dorothea gasped excitedly, but he ignored it, “and then she told Felix about how I told her that I fell in love with someone while she was sleeping.”

“You told her WHAT?!” Dorothea’s voice was practically a screech, “What were you thinking?”

“I was thinking I asked her if she had fallen in love with anyone at the Academy and she said no,” he grumbled irritably, “so she obviously doesn’t feel anything like that for me. Besides, she asked me outright. I wasn’t going to lie to her!”

Dorothea patted his chest with a sympathetic frown. “What did Felix have to say about you having fallen in love with him?”

“Nothing,” he whined pathetically, “Both of them have barely spoken to me since then. I think By is avoiding both of us because she’s upset we didn’t tell her what happened. To make matters worse, she basically told us to go on this trip so we could talk. But Felix is so overwhelmed by everything that he’s just shutting it out. Every time I try to talk to one, they send me in the direction of the other. I don’t…” he trailed off with a groan of frustration and put his palms over his eyes.

“That’s,” Dorothea hesitated, “certainly complicated.”

“Thanks for the help, Thea,” he dryly responded.

After a moment’s pause, she whispered, “What are you going to do?”

“Is it really fair to them,” he hesitantly began, “that I have feelings for both of them? Felix ended things because he’s certain I have feelings for her, which I do, but he doesn’t believe that I have feelings for him, as well. And By…” he paused with a disappointed sigh, “she doesn’t feel the same. And she’s going through so much right now, I’m sure this is the last thing on her mind.”

Dorothea asked, “Are you saying you feel like you have to choose one of them?” 

“Let’s be honest,” he chuckled mirthlessly, “I don’t deserve either of them. They would both be better off if I just—”

“That type of self-talk will get you nowhere,” Dorothea chided softly. “I’m asking you what you want, not what the worst part of your brain feels like you deserve.”

“I don’t know,” he whispered as his eyes became misty, “I know I want them both to be happy. I know I want to support both of them in any way I can. I know that I want to get them both through this awful war without either of them breaking down.” He swallowed heavily and softly added, “I know I don’t want to lose either of them. Just the thought of it makes me…” the trailed off as he clenched his jaw.

“Have you considered sitting down with both of them and saying that?” Dorothea softly asked as she took his hand, “I know you don’t think Byleth feels the same way—”

“I know she doesn’t, she told me as much. You know how she is,” he mumbled as he dropped his head into his hands, “If I told her, she’d feel even more guilty for something that’s not her fault. She’d try to help, try to convince herself she feels the same, even though she doesn’t, just to try and make me feel better. She’s always putting others first, and now she’s trying to do that for an entire army! Not to mention all of her old students that she’s frantically trying to spend time with so she can try and get to know us all again.” 

It was another reason he didn’t want to go on this stupid trip. The thought of leaving her so soon after reuniting was awful, but it was made worse by worry that she might need him. She might have another one of her little flash things, or she might get overwhelmed with all of her responsibilities, or Dimitri might lash out at her again, and he would be in Faerghus, unable to do anything for her.

“Besides, how in the hell do you even have a conversation like that?” he bitterly asked. “‘Hi, my two best friends in the world, I’d like to tell you that I’m in love with both of you. Thank you?’ Felix would hate me, By would freak out…” he groaned and then mumbled into his hands, “it’s impossible.”

“So, what?” Dorothea’s tone became a bit sharper, “You try to decide between them? Try to satisfy Felix but still hold a candle for Byleth?”

“I love him,” he croaked through the tightness in his throat, “I know what it’s like to have him and it ACHES, Thea. I miss him so much, and I know he’s hurting and I just can’t take it anymore. I have to tell him. Hell, I’ll beg if that’s what it takes. I just…” he trailed off as the tightness in his throat became too much. 

Felix had been so off since they got here, and he knew something was wrong with the swordsman. Adding on all of the overwhelm with Glenn and the actual enemies that caused the Tragedy of Duscur, and you have the perfect environment for Felix to break down. He wanted to get him to talk, explain his actions surrounding Byleth, talk out what he was feeling about Glenn and his father, at least something. With the way things stood between them now, there was no chance of it happening.

“Oh Sylvie,” Dorothea sadly whispered, a tear streaming down her cheek as she pulled him into a hug, “I know.” She held him for a few moments before she whispered, “There’s not a day that goes by that I don’t think about Pet. Knowing that she’s out there somewhere, being forced to fight for Edie for the sake of her people…” she sobbed softly and he rubbed her back softly. 

After a moment she added, “If you can tell him… if you can be with him… you should. You never know what is going to happen in this awful war.”

He pushed his own issues to the back of his mind and lowered his head to look into Dorothea’s eyes. “You should talk to By,” he pleaded, “Maybe if we can get to Petra—”

“Byleth already knows,” Dorothea sighed as a frown marred her lovely features, “She offered to get Pet out of Fodlan before the fall of Garreg Mach, but I think Pet was too afraid of what Edie would do. Brigid doesn’t have the power to stand against the Empire. I can’t see how she could get out of this. All of her people are depending on her.”

“Still,” he insisted, “By will at least try. I know she will.”

“I know,” Dorothea smiled sadly as she wiped the tears from her cheeks. “She said she’ll try to get all of them to surrender,” she looked down at her hands in her lap, “but I don’t know that they will. They all have their reasons for what they are doing, no matter how convoluted they may be. I just have to try and prepare myself for the inevitable, though I’m not sure if that’s even possible. How do you prepare yourself to kill your friends? How do you prepare yourself to kill people you spent a year of cherished memories with?”

“I’m so sorry, Thea,” he whispered as he took her hand. “I can’t imagine what this is like for you, but I meant what I said earlier. We’re here for you, all of us are. No matter what happens.”

“I’ll be honest,” she chuckled mirthlessly, “I’m not completely sure how to handle that.”

“You’ll get used to it,” he insisted as he squeezed her hand. She teared up and he moved to hug her again, but was interrupted by a knock at the door. He furrowed his brow in confusion and stood to open it, finding Felix on the other side. 

His swordsman scowled as soon as he spotted Dorothea on the bed and snapped, “I didn’t mean to interrupt. Thought I’d let you know I packed all of our food supplies. We’re leaving here at dawn,” he curled his lip and jeered, “whether you’ve slept or not.”

“Wait, Fe,” he scrambled to grab his hand but Felix pulled away with a derisive scoff, “We were just talking. It’s not like that.”

“Like it wasn’t like that with Linhardt,” he barked, “or is that something different too?” He scowled and gritted out, “You know what? I don’t care. Do whatever the fuck you want.”

“Oh, just fucking kiss already,” Dorothea muttered as she squeezed past them, “if only to shut Felix up.” She blew a kiss over her shoulder as she said, “Thanks for letting me cry on your shoulder, Sylvie. Travel safe, alright?” He sighed and waved goodbye as she walked off.

Felix furrowed his brows as he watched Dorothea leave and asked, “Why—”

“She’s in love with Petra,” he sharply interjected, unable to push back the irritation he was feeling, “who’s being forced to fight for Edelgard because she’s threatening her people. Now we have to fight the person she loves, and potentially kill her if she won’t surrender. Thea needed someone to talk to.” Not the full truth, but they weren’t doing what Felix assumed they were, and that was the more important part.

Felix’s eyes lowered with shame and Sylvain reached out to touch his shoulder. “You ended things,” he reminded in a softer tone, “but I still love you. If I tell you I’m not sleeping with someone-- which I’m not-- I mean it.”

Felix looked up at him with misty eyes and whispered, “But—”

“But nothing,” he softly insisted. “I wouldn’t do that to you. I _couldn’t._ I love you too much for that.” He pulled Felix into his room, before shutting and locking the door. Now in a more private setting, he added, “I know I slept with Lin, and I know I slept with a lot of others, but that was before you. I can’t take it back, and I’m sorry that it obviously hurts you.”

He reached out to take Felix’s hand and sighed in relief when he allowed it. “I’m not giving up on this,” he whispered, “I can’t.”

Felix sharply asked, “But what about Byleth?” Sylvain could see the confusion and the anger starting to build again.

“I want to support her in any way I can,” he responded in a careful tone, “because she’s my friend and I care for her deeply, just like you do. However, I really want you to believe me when I say that how I feel about her doesn’t change the fact that I fell in love with you.” 

He saw the flicker of indecision in Felix’s eyes and added, “We can do whatever you’d like. If you’d like to be friends and not take it any further,” he swallowed down the panic at the very idea and firmly continued, “that’s fine. I want to support you in any way I can, as well. I want the two of you to be happy, more than anything else.”

“But what about you?” Felix’s tone was startlingly soft as amber eyes looked into his, “Why aren’t you talking about what is going to make you happy?”

“Because you already do,” he answered completely honestly, “if things are okay between us, that’s all I need to be happy.” As long as the three of them could be okay, could be friends like they had been before, he didn’t care. He just wanted to be beside them, no matter what that looked like.

“I hurt you,” Felix emotionally burst out as he shook his head and took a step back, “I _never_ should have said the things I did in the woods that day. I _never_ should have made you cry like that. I ALWAYS say the wrong thing, the things that make you, make EVERYONE, hurt. How could you possibly say I make you happy?!” The insecurity and genuine sadness in Felix’s tone was enough to make Sylvain’s chest ache.

“You were scared,” he cooed, trying to calm Felix down, “I knew it as soon as I saw you. I don’t blame you for saying the things you did. But I want you to know you’re not a placeholder, and you never were. You’re Felix,” he hesitantly stepped forward to take the swordsman’s hand again, “my oldest friend. The person I’ve always wanted to stand beside. I don’t want you to be anyone else.” 

“I’m sorry,” Felix’s voice wavered with emotion as he grabbed onto the front of Sylvain’s shirt with a desperate grip, “I’m so sorry.” Felix may have changed a lot from those days when they were kids and everything was simpler, but the action struck him with an overwhelming wave of nostalgia. Teary amber eyes staring up at him, clutching to his shirt as he explained what was upsetting him... It felt so good, so right, so… Felix.

“I know,” he rasped through the tightness in his throat, leaning forward slowly, “I forgive you.” 

He wondered if Felix felt the same sense of being unburdened, because his swordsman sighed with something like relief and immediately used the hold on his shirt to pull him down until their lips finally—FINALLY—met. As soon as they did, it was like a weight on his shoulders immediately eased, an ache that had plagued him since that day in the woods, finally healed.

Felix kept his hold on Sylvain’s shirt as he slowly pulled away. “I need to…” he hesitated, his eyes still closed, “I need to think.”

“Oh…” Sylvain whispered, his heart sinking into his stomach, “Okay.”

“It’s not…” again the hesitation as the grip on the front of his shirt tightened, “It’s not that I don’t want this, that I don’t want you. I just…”

“…Is it about By? I told you--”

“It’s not just that,” Felix shook his head before resting his forehead against his in a rare show of intimacy, “I just need to think. Is that…” he pulled his head away and intense amber eyes stared into his, “Is that okay? Will you be okay?”

He cupped Felix’s cheek and brushed a kiss on his forehead, murmuring against his skin, “If you don’t shut me out while you think, I’ll be fine.”

“I’m sorry,” Felix brokenly whispered as he stepped back and slowly let go of his shirt, “I just… don’t want to…” his eyebrow furrowed, and the swordsman’s body practically vibrated with anxiety. “Never mind. I’ll see you in the morning?”

“Yeah,” he assured him, fear and hope intermingling in his chest, “I’ll meet you by the stables at dawn.”

“Okay,” Felix whispered. He nodded his head firmly like he had made a decision and quickly walked out the door.

As soon as the door shut, he flopped back on his bed and put his hand to his lips, closing his eyes to remember the feel of Felix against him. Goddess… he was becoming a lovesick fool. If only Sylvain from six years ago could see him now. 

~Byleth~

She nearly knocked Balthus down the stairs in her angrily sad and completely exhausted sprint away from Felix, away from Sylvain, away from all of it. 

“Woah, pal,” Balthus put his hands on her shoulders and dipped down to look at her, “I was just coming to look for ya. Everything okay?”

“Fine,” she muttered, quick and concise because she couldn’t talk about what just happened while her brain was overanalyzing everything. “Would you do me a favor?”

“Sure, Boss,” he teased. He sometimes called her boss because apparently she always made a face when he did, and he would always dissolve into his big bellied laugh that always makes the corner of her lip turn up. 

Unfortunately, that didn’t work today.

“Could you go down to Abyss and see if Yuri is back yet? I need to speak with him, but I’ve got to go and talk to someone. There’s something I’ve been meaning to do.”

“Sure,” Balthus drew out the word in a careful tone, “whatever you need, pal. I’ll see you down there.” He turned and started down the steps just as she did, and they split from each other at the alley between her old quarters and the bath house, Balthus to Abyss, and her to Linhardt’s room.

She knocked on his door, and knowing how things usually go with Linhardt, cracked it open slowly. The mage was curled up on the bed, facing the door, a book from her room tucked in his arm as he snored softly. The sight helped something in her calm, or maybe that was just Linhardt’s influence. She stepped inside and shut the door behind her, lighting a candle on the desk before she went to sit on the bed. 

“Lin…” she whispered as she brushed some hair from his face, “Lin, I have a surprise for you. Will you wake up for me?”

She had to suppress a giggle as Linhardt’s nose wrinkled, followed by a furrow in his brow. He tossed the book down the bed with a grunt before grabbing her arm and pulling her down beside him. He groggily whispered, “Can my surprise be that you’ve come to join my nap?” 

She chuckled softly and ran her hands through his hair. “It’s even better, Lin. I promise.”

He lifted his head to look at her, his eyes half-lidded and sleepy. “Are you sure,” he yawned, “I’ve always wanted to take a nap with you. You seem like you’d make a good pillow, and you always play with my hair.” He hummed softly and plopped his head down on her chest, pulling her closer like she was a body pillow and not his former teacher turned commander. Sort of.

“I’m sure,” she quietly insisted, returning to her ministrations. _Damn, his hair is soft._ She always loved the feel of it between her fingers, and she liked the way that Linhardt always had a tiny smile on his face when she did it. 

She was worried about her sleepy mage.

She could tell that he was falling back to sleep, the steady rhythm of his breathing was becoming longer, more drawn out, as he relaxed against her. She ducked her head to whisper in his ear, “You might like this one as much as researching my Crest.”

That got his attention. He lifted his head and looked at her quizzically, his elegant eyebrow raised in a look that was almost accusatory in nature. “If you’re just saying that to get me out of bed,” he mumbled, “I’ll have you know that I’ll never forgive you.”

“I’m not,” she solemnly promised. “Come with me?”

“I want to,” he sleepily whined, “but I’m just… so… tired.”

She chuckled affectionately and said, “I’ll carry you if you’d like? You can try to nap a little as I walk. You’ll want some energy for the surprise.”

“Energy?” He groaned and dropped his head to her shoulder. “I already don’t like this surprise.”

“Oh, you’ll love it Lin.” She wiggled out from under him and grabbed his hand to pull his near dead weight toward her. He whined and groaned until she had him on her back in a piggy back carry and made her way out the door and down the pathway. 

They only made it to the top of the stairs when they were spotted by Sylvain and Mercedes. She had been able to push away her racing thoughts while in Linhardt’s room, but at the sight of Sylvain, they all came rushing back. 

Felix was pushing her away, while also ranting and screaming about her safety. She could never shake the guilt she felt whenever she was near the swordsman, because he was angry at her for leaving. Angry at her for being gone so long. Angry for bringing up Glenn. Really, he just seemed angry at everything she did, and sadly, she had had about enough. She knew he cared, but she was tired of the way he was treating her, tired of feeling guilty, and tired of the tension between them.

Sylvain was another beast entirely. There was no anger there, but sometimes she would see this look in his eye that never failed to make her stomach flip. When she’d first gotten back, it was easy to use him as an anchor, a tether to being awake and alive and back with her students and friends. He was always there to comfort her, to hold her, and she appreciated it more than he could ever know. But seeing he and Felix the other night, knowing that Sylvain fell in love with Felix while she was sleeping, it all made it feel wrong somehow. Part of her wondered if it was why Felix was so upset with her all the time. Perhaps in Sylvain’s desire to be a supportive friend, she was getting in their way.

She wanted them to be happy more than anything in the world. They were the two people that were most precious to her, why wouldn’t she want them to be happy? That’s why it was so annoying that any time she saw either of them, she got this weird feeling in her stomach. It was something she hadn’t experienced before, and she really didn’t have the time or emotional energy to figure out what it meant.

She had been avoiding them. It was cruel, but she didn’t know what else to do. Almost every moment of her time was demanded now, other than sleeping. And realistically she hadn’t had a good rest since she’d been back. Most nights she spent over a map, drawing up new practice formations, or reading her father’s journal. She was exhausted, physically, mentally, emotionally. She couldn’t deal with this right now, she just couldn’t.

Really there were other motives for sending them away for a while, and she couldn’t help feeling guilty about it. Especially with that look of hurt that blinked across Sylvain’s face before he could smother it. 

She startled slightly when Linhardt lowered his head to her shoulder with a sigh. Mercedes and Sylvain were looking at her, and she quickly realized that she had been so stuck in her own head that she had missed whatever conversation had been had.

She looked to Sylvain and asked, “Have you and Felix decided when you are leaving yet?”

“We’ll leave at dawn,” he answered, a small crinkle between his brow, “It should be about two days’ travel to Fraldarius, and we’ll speak with Rodrigue about your request for troops and resources. I’m thinking we should be back in a little over a week’s time if all goes well,” he paused and pursed his lips like he often did when he was thinking, “though I suppose that will depend on a couple different factors. I may make the extra trek up to Gautier to get my battalion. An extra fifty men should come in handy immediately, and I trust their skills.”

They would be gone for longer if he did that. She pushed back the warring jubilation and dread that the thought started in her. She tried to keep her tone light as she replied, “That would be very helpful.” Sylvain had this odd look in his eye as he stared down at her, and she glanced down to the ground before softly adding, “Please be safe in your travels.” 

The fact that she wouldn’t be there if something happened filled her with a sense of dread, but she reminded herself that she’d abandoned them for five years and they’d been fine without her. What was a few weeks compared to that? 

She bit the inside of her cheek hard as she pushed the thoughts away.

“We will be back before you know it, By.” All fake cheeriness from him, as was happening often now. His mask had changed, re-sculpted itself into something slightly different. Where his mask before had covered his vulnerabilities, now it seemed to be a forced portrayal of empty cheer. Whether it was for his sake, or for others, she wasn’t sure.

She nodded to Sylvain and Mercedes and continued on down the path, lost in her thoughts. She startled slightly when Linhardt whispered, “Are you upset with Sylvain?” 

“What? No, I—”

“I’m on your back, Byleth,” he drawled in an easy tone, “You just tensed up so much I might have bruises on my legs tomorrow.” She winced and began to apologize, but he sighed and rested his head back down on her shoulder. “I suppose it’s none of my business. You know he used to dream about you?”

“What?” She stumbled, catching herself quickly as they entered the alleyway and Linhardt hummed contemplatively.

“He used to dream about you all the time, though he wasn’t forthright about it. He’d wake up in tears, and then the topic of you would make its way into conversation some time that day. When the rest of us had the dream to remember our promise, I swear he looked like a wounded puppy.”

“Wait…” she stammered, “how would you even—”

“Did you bring me back here to have your way with me,” he cut her off as she walked behind the building, tightly squeezing the two of them through, “not that I’m objecting or anything, but it would have been more comfortable on the bed in my quarters.”

She dropped him, and he yelped as he caught his footing. “Am I what?!”

He leaned against the wall about ten feet from where the spell concealed the entrance to Abyss. He stared at her with heavy lidded big blue eyes and added in his normal nonchalant tone, “It’s not a problem or anything, I just—”

She put a hand up, effectively silencing him, and incredulously asked, “I told you that I had a surprise for you that was on the same level as researching my Crest, and your mind goes to me having my way with you behind the dorm building?”

He shrugged and opened his mouth with a yawn. “I have to admit that it would fulfill a teenage fantasy. My young sexy teacher taking me behind the building to have her way with me where anyone could hear us. It’s quite—”

“Nope,” she put up a finger with a snort of laughter, “I don’t need you to finish that sentence.” He sighed like he was being burdened by this conversation, or maybe by the fact that this wasn’t going where he thought it was, and she couldn’t help rolling her eyes. “That is not what I brought you here for.” 

She took a few steps back, curling her finger in a come here motion. “I brought you here to show you something that will be even more exciting.” Linhardt raised an eyebrow, and when she was in the right position, she turned with her back facing the spell and pretended to fall backwards into the wall. Linhardt’s frantic stammer of her name was entertaining, and he immediately came to stand in front of the ward, lifting his hand to try and find the magic in the air for whatever happened.

She could see him through the spell, and the widening of his eyes and the strangled yelp he made when she reached her arm out to grab him by the front of his tunic and pull him in was going to be a memory she looked back on whenever she needed a pick me up. “Welcome to the secret entrance of Abyss.” She smirked cheekily and Linhardt gave her a stern if not somewhat sleepy sideways glance before turning back to the ward.

He murmured, “Who placed the mirage here? The magic must be complex and powerful if I couldn’t feel it immediately…”

“I think Yuri said it was Constance,” she answered with a shrug, “I think you’d like her. From what I’ve learned over the last few days she’s a very competent mage, always looking into creating new spells.”

“And she possesses a rare Crest of one of the four apostles,” he murmured, putting a crooked finger to his chin.

“But that wasn’t your surprise either,” she hummed as she looped her arm through Linhardt’s, “Follow me.”

Linhardt was mumbling under his breath the entire walk, his eyes wide open as he took in their surroundings. She mostly tuned him out, focusing on getting them there and dragging him along. She waved to the Abysskeeper, who waved back with a happy greeting, and then she got up on her tiptoes and reached up to put a hand over Linhardt’s eyes. “Alright, are you ready?”

“Is this really necessary?” he whined, “There’s been quite enough anticipation buildup as it is.”

“Humor me,” she playfully retorted, “I’m stressed and tired and I want to get the full effect of how happy you’re about to be.”

She pulled him in by the hand, still covering his eyes. “Ah,” a voice cooed from behind her, “So you’ve finally brought the sleepy mage.”

“Shhh…” she snapped playfully, “You’re going to ruin my reveal.” 

“You’re quite the complex creature, friend. You can take out an entire battalion single-handedly, but you’re excited about showing a dude a--”

“Shhhh!” She turned her head to glare at him, and he gave a cocky wink as he leaned back against the railing with an easy smile.

Linhardt yawned and mumbled, “Can I see now?”

“Okay,” she took her hand off and opened her arms, “I give you… the Shadow Library!” Linhardt’s face was like a kid in a sweet shop, and it immediately filled her chest with warmth. Having one of her stressed out students look that happy was just what she needed right now. “It’s the place where all of the books that are banned by Seteth end up. Yuri says there’s lots of great stuff down here.”

“Well…” Yuri interjected, “great is subjective. There’s also a lot of useless trash. It is Abyss, after all.”

Linhardt was barely paying them any attention, already standing by the shelves as he brushed a finger along spines and pulled out leaflets to glance them over. She walked over to stand in front of him and leaned one shoulder against the shelves. “I’ve got an important assignment for you,” Linhardt’s blue eyes traveled to meet hers as he opened his mouth in what she would assume was going to be protest, “but the trouble is…” she said in a somewhat playful tone, “you would be too busy reading to fight.”

Linhardt’s eyes went wide, and then softened as he stared at her. She continued in a softer tone, “I know you don’t want to be out on the battlefield, but this will be just as important for the war effort. You’ll be helping, but not having to—”

She cut off when Linhardt pulled her into a crushing hug. She returned it as he said in a wavering voice, “Thank you, Byleth.”

“Hey,” she chuckled weakly through the lump in her throat, “don’t thank me just yet. It’s a lot of research you’ll have to do.”

Linhardt squeezed her tighter and chuckled softly. “That’s a burden I’m willing to carry. For the advancement of the rebellion, of course.”

“Alright, alright,” Yuri playfully chided, “enough of the lovey dovey stuff. We’ve got actual work to do, friends.”

She unwrapped one arm from their hug to flip Yuri off and called, “It’s not lovey dovey, it’s giving my student a mission.”

“I don’t know,” Linhardt drawled as he stepped back and resumed his earlier activity of looking at the books on the shelves, “If you keep giving me exciting tasks like studying your Crest and reading through banned books, I may just fall in love with you.” She flustered as he hummed softly and without looking at her added, “You are a beautiful mystery. If I were to be tied to someone, I suppose that wouldn’t be too awful.”

“Alright,” she raised her hands as Yuri snickered in obvious amusement, “We’re getting off subject now.”

A woman in long black robes with a formal mourning veil entered the library, and Yuri quickly reverted to his usual illusive air but with a kind smile. “Maggie, what brings you by?” Byleth stepped closer to Linhardt and looked toward the books to try and give him space.

“I’m sorry,” the woman said in a soft voice, “Are you busy? I can come back later?”

“I’m a little busy at the moment,” Yuri nodded as he walked toward her and offered his arm, “but is it urgent? Something wrong with the kids?”

“No no,” she assured him, “it’s just a little thing. Who are your friends? It’s unusual to see surface dwellers down here.”

“This,” Yuri walked over and put a hand on her arm as she turned around and nodded in greeting, “is the acting archbishop, and one of her former students.” Linhardt waved a hand without looking, using his usual manners, or lack thereof. 

She couldn’t see the woman’s face behind the veil, but she felt the hair on the back of her neck stand on end like she was being watched. “Such lovely friends you have, Yuri. And very gracious, too. I hear you gave Jerry quite a bit of business the other day. More coin than he’d seen in years.”

“I’m just trying to help out,” she replied in a formal tone, “I hate to think of what you all have had to deal with over the last few years. Yuri does a great job, but I like to help out where I can.” 

“As would be expected from the goddess’ chosen,” the woman hummed, but something about it had Byleth on edge. The woman turned her head in Yuri’s direction and said, “I can see you are busy, so I’ll try and catch you another time.” She bowed slightly to Byleth and said, “It was nice to meet you.”

“It was nice to meet you, as well.” Byleth replied as she nodded in farewell. As soon as she was gone she turned to Yuri and asked, “Who was that?”

“That?” Yuri raised his eyebrows and turned to fully face her. “That’s Maggie. She’s been down here for years. She helps teach the kids of Abyss the basic things, reading, writing, all that stuff. I try my best to get materials to keep her supplied, but with the way things have gone the last couple years, it’s been a bit harder on her. We’ve been talking about opening the school back up.”

“Oh,” Byleth fought the urge to frown and turned away, “let me know if I can help with that.”

“I appreciate the thought,” Yuri said. “Let’s go up to my office and talk, shall we? It’s a bit more private there so we can get down to business.”

“Must we,” Linhardt whined, “There’s so many books to look through.”

“You have to hear what you’re looking for,” Byleth lightly chided with a small smile, “Important task, remember?”

“Oh… right.” Linhardt sighed and slumped his shoulders. “Lead the way, then.”

After being impressed by the ward Yuri had over his office, they entered and immediately got into discussing the shadow group of mages. Yuri told Lin about the mages that abducted people from Abyss, while she discussed her vision in the Holy Tomb and the events that had transpired during his year at the academy. He had not been there for the event in the Holy Mausoleum and Lonato’s uprising, but he was aware of the things that happened later with Solon and Kronya, so it was a bit easier to catch him up. Linhardt listened intently and asked many MANY questions, and by the end of the discussion, Byleth’s throat was dry and she was completely exhausted.

“So, you’d like me to search the Shadow Library for any mention of this group, as well as anything else that may be suspicious?” he summed up rather easily.

“Yes,” she nodded, “If you could also come to me with anything interesting you find about what the church may be covering up, I would be very interested to know that as well.”

Linhardt chuckled softly and shook his head, “How interesting that the acting archbishop would say such a thing.” She gave him an unamused look and he waved his hand dismissively. “I know, I know. You aren’t exactly who I’d choose if I was Rhea, but she wasn’t exactly impartial when it came to you, so it makes a certain amount of sense.”

“All of this stays between us,” she urged as she pointed between the three of them, “We don’t know how far this goes, and we don’t know if they have people among our ranks.”

“You think there could be spies,” Linhardt hummed as he put a hand to his chin.

“They had infiltrated the staff at the monastery and the students at the Academy,” she reminded the two men, “And they have magic that can make them look like anyone. We need to be cautious.”

“That sounds like the best plan,” Yuri agreed. “I have a few birds that I trust, but other than that, no one knows we’re doing any digging. The Wolves are more worried about keeping everyone down here safe than anything else.”

“Are we done here?” Linhardt asked. “Can I go down and look through the shelves now?”

“Yes,” she chuckled affectionately, “I have some things I need to talk to Yuri about, anyway.”

“No wandering around, mage boy,” Yuri warned. “People down here don’t tolerate people who stick their noses where they don’t belong.”

“Yes, yes,” Linhardt sighed in his put-upon way, “Best behavior.” He waved and headed out of the office.

She turned to Yuri who was leaning gracefully against his desk, and asked, “Were you able to find anything in the Imperial vanguard's camp?”

“Nothing,” Yuri grumbled, his glossed lips tilted down in the slightest frown, “there were some stragglers that my men and I took care of, but the mages didn’t leave anything important behind.”

“Damn it,” she cursed and sank down onto the couch. She planted her elbows on her knees and began massaging her temples with her fingers, trying to ease the pressure that had been steadily building for days now in anticipation of the attack.

“We did manage to salvage some supplies, which we brought back to Abyss, so it wasn’t an absolute waste of time,” he said in a tone laced with something that caught her attention. “I also managed to snag something that might be just what you need.” She lifted her head to see Yuri pull a chain from under his armor with a key dangling from it. He unlocked the left bottom drawer and pulled out what looked like a very nice bottle of liquor and some glasses.

He poured two glasses and walked toward her in a way that she couldn’t help noticing seemed slightly exaggerated, handing her one. “You alright there, friend?” Yuri cooed, with one perfectly shaped eyebrow raised. 

“Sorry,” she mumbled, “It’s been a long day and I guess it’s catching up to me.” She took a sip and appreciated the smoky taste on her tongue.

“You’re running yourself ragged already,” Yuri cooed as he moved to sit beside her, “You look exhausted, and you’re so tense.” He moved to rub at her shoulder, and she leaned against him slightly as she groaned in appreciation.

“I haven’t been sleeping,” she mumbled, “There’s too much going on, and…” she groaned as Yuri rubbed a particularly nasty knot in her shoulder.

Yuri chuckled breathily and shook his head. “You know what you need, friend?” he purred as he leaned close to her ear, “A night to… loosen up.” The last two words danced off his tongue, all sweet and honeyed, and she turned to look at him with a raised eyebrow.

“I do, huh?” she propped her chin on her fist, tilting her head just so.

“I think so,” Yuri said with exaggerated sincerity, “when is the last time you got to turn off your brain and just relax?”

“Over six years ago,” she snorted with a shake of her head. She wondered whether the warmth in her cheeks was from the liquor or Yuri’s proximate. Or perhaps it was the almost predatory look in his eyes. “Being a professor didn’t lend many opportunities to blow off steam.”

“Oh,” Yuri chuckled lowly, “is that what you call it? How very… mercenary… of you.” He stopped rubbing her shoulders to take a drink, and she tilted back to lean an elbow on the back of the lounger, facing him. He poured more in her glass with a saccharine grin.

“What would you call it?” she asked with a tilt of her head and a subtle pout of her lips.

“A casual fuck,” he bluntly replied. He tilted to the side, matching her posture and took another sip of his drink.

“Is that the card you’re playing?” she purred as she leaned forward ever so slightly. Yuri leaned forward, his eyes darting to her lips and then back and she leaned back with a sly grin. “Believe it or not, you aren’t the first to proposition me today.” She chuckled softly and said, “Lin thought I was dragging him behind a building to have my way with him.”

Something sharper entered Yuri’s expression, and he put a hand on her thigh as he purred, “Oh yeah? It’s no wonder. I think half the population of the monastery would love nothing more than to help you—” he enunciated, “--blow off some steam.”

She rolled her eyes, but straightened her outside leg until it draped over Yuri’s lap. The other leg, with Yuri’s thumb rubbing slow circles into is, was crossed in between them. “Lin seems to think it’s a kink of sorts, because I was their teacher.”

“I believe it,” he admitted, reaching out to move some hair out of her face with what must have been intentional trailing of his fingers, “I certainly would have paid more attention in school if my professor looked like you.” A sly grin crossed his face before he shrugged, “Or perhaps it would have been impossible to pay any attention at all.”

“I wouldn’t have expected you to be so straightforward with your flattery,” she hummed as she took another drink. 

“I’m straightforward when I know what I want,” he purred with hungry eyes, “And I’m fairly certain that you want it, too.” 

“Confident, are we?” She raised a challenging eyebrow and Yuri’s grin became greedy.

He leaned closer to her, his thumb traveling up her thigh until it rested on the crease of her hip, leaving a trail of sparks in its wake. “I’m just trying to help the war effort,” he teased in a sultry voice, “A satisfied commander will be all the more useful, don’t you think? And I’m more than willing to take one for the team.”

“And why should it be you,” she started to respond, but paused with a sharp intake of breath as Yuri’s lips brushed over her neck, “if everyone is so willing?” 

“I see the way you look at me,” he hummed in her ear, “and mine comes with no strings. Your little students might be a little too in love with you for this particular job.”

“They aren’t in love with me,” she breathily responded, tilting her head to the side as Yuri’s lips became bolder.

“Sure they are,” he murmured against the sensitive skin. Something knowing leaked into his tone as he added, “Some more than others.”

“Are you going to talk about other people who want to do this,” she sighed, “or are you going to just do it?” 

He nipped sharply at her neck and replied, “Not here. Your place is nicer, and more private.” 

She lightly protested, “Balthus—”

“I told him to take the night off,” Yuri smugly interjected. "He said you were a wreck when he found you, so I'm taking matters into my own hands."

She snorted a laugh and grunted, “You cocky son of a bitch. Maybe I’ll go--”

“Nope,” Yuri purred, “you’re coming with me.” He stood up, pulling her up with him, and pulled her toward the door as she laughed softly. She made sure to snag the bottle of liquor on her way.

They walked down the stairs, and Yuri called to Linhardt, “Best behavior, sleepy mage.” Linhardt waved a hand in acknowledgement, nose buried in a book. When they turned the corner to head toward the exit he grumbled, “If he causes trouble, I’m blaming you.”

“I’ll be honest… he might,” she admitted with a shrug of her shoulders. “He broke into the vaults after my father was murdered to look for weapons and anything else that might be useful. Who knows what else he’s capable of?”

Yuri chuckled darkly and murmured, “Maybe I like him more than I thought.” He wrapped an arm around her waist and whispered, “Hold on.” Light surrounded them, and she blinked her eyes open to the courtyard in front of the old classrooms. “Once more,” he wrapped his other arm around her, embracing her with a nibble of her ear. 

Her head swam slightly from two successive warps, but she had no need for balance as Yuri backed her up against the wall of the hallway in front of her door and kissed her hungrily. She couldn’t remember the last time she had been kissed like this, if she ever had been before. Yuri might be a silver tongue, but it wasn’t the only thing his tongue was good at. She moaned into the kiss, and felt the upturn of Yuri’s lips before he pulled away. 

“You’re so responsive,” he purred with a cocky smirk, “This is going to be fun.”

“It’s been awhile,” she panted, “And it’s different when everything isn’t muted.” He lifted an eyebrow and she shook her head sharply. “I’ll explain later.” She pulled Yuri’s tunic, pulling his lips back to hers.

It did feel different. Her head swam more than she ever remembered from any of her other trysts, and Yuri’s touch left a pleasant feeling on her skin as heat built up in her core. “Room,” she frantically whispered, and they shuffled back toward it until her back was pressed against the door. She fumbled for the key in her pocket, groaning slightly in frustration, but finally got the door unlocked. 

Yuri kicked it shut and locked it before pushing her back toward the bed. She stripped off her coat and Yuri unbuckled his cape. His fingers brushed against the skin of her lower belly, and she stalled, grabbing his hand. Sylvain’s voice from a couple days ago popped in her mind. _‘It’s not like I enjoy looking at your scar.’_

“I should warn you,” she hesitantly whispered, “I have a scar.”

Yuri chuckled and softly bit a scar on her shoulder, sending a shiver down her spine. “You’ll have to be more specific, friend.”

She stepped back slightly and pulled her shirt over her head, leaving her in just a breastband. Yuri’s eyes widened for the briefest moment before he pushed her down on her back on the bed with hooded eyes. He bent down and trailed his tongue up the length of the scar, making the heat in her belly flare until she thought she might explode. 

He trailed open mouthed kisses up to her ear and purred, “There’s nothing sexier than a survivor, friend.” He nipped at the flesh of her ear and reached up to cup her breast. “You’re impossible, unattainable, otherworldly…” he stole a hungry kiss and growled, “and that’s fucking _hot_.” 

Warmth spread through her chest as she sighed and arched into him. 

_Maybe this IS what I needed._

~Felix~

He left Sylvain’s room practically buzzing with nerves. Byleth had mentioned that Sylvain said he loved him, but to have him say it to his face repeatedly with that look in his eyes…   
It was too much. He needed to think. 

Unfortunately, all he could think of right now, all he’d been able to think of for hours, was Byleth. The look on her face when she stormed out, the finality of her tone when she said she was done. He had been a total asshole, had been since she had gotten out of that fucking river. 

But why?! Every time he tried to think about it his heart started beating too fast and his stomach twisted up into knots. It was all so complicated with Sylvain and Byleth. Having realized his feelings for his oldest friend, only to have his childhood crush come back from the dead…

No. She was more than that. It wasn’t some childhood fantasy, though it was for several years. The year at the Academy had only made those feelings grow, even if he was too young and foolish to acknowledge it and say something like Sylvain kept urging him to. Now he knew that Sylvain was being self-sacrificing back then, and it tainted every memory that he had of the three of them. 

How long had Sylvain felt that way for her? How long had he felt that way for him? He said he loved Felix, but did he love Byleth, or was it feelings that had dulled since she had been gone? He knew these were things that he should ask, he knew that they should talk about all of this, but the thought was terrifying. What if he didn’t like the answer? What if he was in love with her? 

None of it made any goddess damned sense! 

All he knew for certain was that he had fucked up. He needed to talk to Byleth. He needed to make things right before she decided that she had had enough of him and decided to stop being his friend. He scoffed at the thought, feeling childish for the sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach at the very idea. He deserved it, he knew he did, but he couldn’t let it happen. He had just gotten her back. Even with all of the things he had fucked up with her, she had come back from the dead. She was HERE, and he was ruining it with his expert ability to piss her off or be the one who was pissed off. 

He needed to talk to her. He needed to apologize, not just for the things he had said, but for everything. He needed to tell her about the dreams, tell her about the guilt, the reason it was so hard to just fucking look at her. He needed to tell her he was an absolute fool, and he would do whatever it took to remain by her side… as her friend. Because he wanted to be her friend.

If he could make things right with Byleth, then he could think about what he wanted to do with Sylvain.

He ran up the last few steps to the third floor and quickly moved to knock on the door. It was really late, so he assumed that she was already in for the night. He worried that maybe she was asleep, but quickly dismissed the thought because he was fairly certain she wasn’t sleeping if the fatigue in her eyes was any indication.

He knocked on the door again, and was about to leave and try Abyss, when the door cracked open. “Now is not a good time, Fraldarius,” came Byleth’s grumbled greeting. She was about to shut the door, but he stuck his foot in and pushed into the room.

He grabbed her shoulders and begged, “Please, just hear me out. I fucked up, I know I did, but—”

“Don’t they teach you noble kids manners?” an unwelcome voice cooed from the other side of the room. Felix’s eyes darted over to see Yuri in the bed, his torso bare, and his legs and hips covered by a thin sheet. “Oh wait,” he sneered, “They teach you you can do whatever the fuck you want.”

“What the hell are you doing here?” he gritted out through clenched teeth.

A satisfied smirk curled his lips as his eyes trailed to Byleth. “I’d say it’s pretty obvious what I’m doing here.”

Felix followed the trail of Yuri’s eyes and flinched back when he realized that his hands were resting on Byleth’s bare shoulders. She held a blanket loosely wrapped around her torso, and the rest trailed out behind her. Her hair was mussed, her eyes hazy, and her cheeks a beautiful rosy pink. His eyes trailed to her lips, swollen and thoroughly— _Oh fuck._

He idiotically stammered, “You… and him… you’re…” A plethora of feelings and sensations were going through him, none of them positive. His head was practically swimming from the effects of the heat rushing to his cheeks from his embarrassment, the cold wash of dread at realizing that Byleth was WITH someone, and the physical pain like someone was ripping something from his chest.

“We fucked,” she bitterly answered, “I don’t see why it’s any of your concern.”

“What?” he breathed. His head was still spinning, and her voice seemed far away for some reason.

She yelled, “Get the hell out, Fraldarius! I’m busy!”

“Do yourself a favor and go, Guard Dog.” Yuri’s voice snapped him back to reality.

“What the hell do you think you’re doing?!” he turned and barked at Yuri.

Yuri raised an eyebrow and moved to lean back on his arms. “I think I’m trying to get our friend here to relax and have some fun. Somebody needs to.”

There was a burning heat in his chest, so hot he thought if he might burn from the inside out. “So, you’re going to fuck her? That’s your idea of fun?!”

Yuri chuckled breathily and threw his head back, exposing his marked throat to Felix’s gaze. “I’d say it was plenty of fun. How about you leave so we can have some more of it.”

He saw red and screamed, “She’s not—”

“I’m not, what?” Byleth snapped as she stepped in front of him. Her eyes had sharpened and he shrunk back under the weight of her glare. “I brought him up here to fuck him. Would you like a play by play? I’m not a damsel, and I’m not in distress. He didn’t take advantage of me, I just wanted to fucking relax for two seconds!”

He flustered, the heat from his chest warming his cheeks and his ears in what was probably a humiliating blush. “You don’t have a right to barge in here and yell at Yuri,” she continued. “You don’t have a right to be upset at all.” Her eyes filled with a mixture of hurt, frustration, and anger that he had never seen from her. She growled, “You already have a boyfriend you can go and fuck! So, GO!” 

“I wanted to fix things,” he pleaded, “I wanted to talk, say I’m—”

“You didn’t fix things, and I have no desire to talk to you right now. How many times have you yelled at me since I’ve been back? How many times have you doubted me? Criticized me? Made me feel incompetent? I’ve got enough stress on my plate without you and your issues. I’m done! You say that your stuff is none of my business, well MY stuff is none of your business.”

He frantically cried, “I was worried about you! You were using yourself as bait, being reckless—”

“If this is how it feels to have you worry about me,” she interjected in a tone like ice, “I don’t want it.” His breath left him in a rush as he gaped at her. “Leave. Go to Fearghus, and when you get back…” tears filled her eyes as she clutched the blanket around herself tighter, “leave me alone.”

He whispered, “What?” His voice was an echo in his own ears. What the hell was happening? How did he let this happen? How did he fuck up this badly? 

“Leave. Me. Alone.” She gritted out as a tear trailed down her cheek. He stepped forward desperately, uncaring that Yuri was watching him humiliate himself. He reached out to wipe the tear away, to hold her, tell her he was sorry, but she shoved him away. “Go.”

Yuri walked up behind her, a genuine look of concern on his face, but Felix quickly stepped backward, flailed for the door and ran out into the night. 

He thundered down the stairs as quickly as his legs would possibly carry him, his vision blurring with useless tears as he heard Byleth’s angry words over and over. He had let her down, again. He had pushed her and pushed her until she had finally broken under the strain. Now he’d managed to lose one of the only people he truly cared about… AGAIN. He was a stubborn fool who got defensive and angry instead of just talking to her as she begged him to so many times. Instead of telling her he felt guilty, telling her he was worried for her safety after YEARS of mourning her loss, instead of telling her he was so terrified of losing her that he felt like he had to keep her at arm's length, he'd pushed her away completely. 

As he stumbled down onto the landing of the ground floor, the door that led to the graveyard and the Knight’s Hall was pulled open, and the boar walked in. His eye landed on Felix and widened as he breathed out a haunted, “Glenn…” 

This was the last thing he needed, to be mistaken for Glenn by the wild boar. Only… he wasn’t a wild boar. He looked more like his old self as he stumbled forward with soft, if slightly fearful, features. “I’m not wavering in my resolve,” he swore before Felix could open his mouth, “I’ll still give you her head. Please, do not look at me with such contempt.”

“You think that Glenn is haunting you?!” He roared as he stormed closer to the boar. The automatic shift in the boar prince’s features when he realized who he was actually talking to would have been startling if he wasn’t seeing red. “You think that Glenn is one of the voices forcing you to seek vengeance?!”

“Let me be…” the beast growled, trying to walk around him, probably to stalk back to the cathedral. 

“No!” he yelled as he grabbed the boar’s arm and pushed him back against the wall, “My brother gave his LIFE for you. You don’t get to use his death in your twisted—”

“ENOUGH!” The beast roared, shoving him back with monstrous strength. He reached for his sword, but the boar grabbed his arm and squeezed hard enough to make him have to grit his teeth to keep from crying out. “You have no idea of what you speak of. You have not heard the desperate screams, the pleading, the—”

He furiously shouted, “Let me go, Boar!”

The beast’s icy blue eye zeroed in on his face and narrowed to an angry slit. He sneered, “You’re pathetic,” and dropped his arm with a curl of his lip, “you think me a monster? Well, I am. It is just as you always said.” He stepped closer to Felix, and his nose wrinkled as the awful smell of death and sweat assaulted his nostrils. “I have become the monster they need… I’ve become the monster that will give them peace… will give Glenn peace.”

“So, you’re going to neglect the living people that actually want to help you in the pursuit of people who died almost a decade ago?” He scoffed and then growled, “It’s not me that’s pathetic.”

The boar didn’t deign to give him a reply, he instead walked around him with a shove of his shoulder and threw open the doors that led to the Cathedral bridge. 

Felix spent the rest of the night in the training hall, desperately trying to stop himself from thinking about everything that plagued his mind. Sylvain, Byleth, the boar…

When the first hints of dawn touched the sky, he put away his training sword and stalked to the bath house to quickly bathe. He quickly walked to his room, picked up his travel pack, and walked back out of the room. When he approached the stables, Sylvain had already saddled both of their horses, and he was softly whistling a tune Felix didn’t recognize.

The tune died as soon as honey eyes landed on him, and his features quickly twisted into a look of concern. He quickly walked over to him as he began tying his saddle bags up and asked, “What happened?”

Was he supposed to tell Sylvain what he stumbled across with Yuri and Byleth? Was he supposed to keep it a secret? Were they courting? Was she falling in love with that filthy piece of… 

He cut off the thought with a shake of his head. If Yuri was helping her, he didn’t deserve his ire. It was his own fault he was in the position he was in. He quietly explained, “Byleth has asked me to leave her alone when we return from Faerghus.”

“What?!” Sylvain’s eyes widened in something akin to horror as he grabbed his shoulders to force him to face him. “What happened?”

“I tried to go and fix things last night,” he mumbled as he bowed his head, “I found her with Yuri.”

Sylvain asked, “So what? She’s always with Yuri.”

“No, Sylvain…” he raised his head and emphasized, “WITH Yuri.” Sylvain visibly deflated and Felix bit back the urge to be angry about it, knowing it would make him a hypocritical asshole, even more than he already was. “I yelled at him, said some things I shouldn’t have, and Byleth… she’s done.” He tried to clear his throat and rasped, “She said she’s done.”

Sylvain grabbed his hand and attempted to pull him away as he pleaded, “Let’s go and talk to her. We can’t just leave like this. We can’t—”

“This isn’t something you can fix right now, Sylvain.” He pulled on the redhead’s hand and forced him to turn around, frowning as he saw the distress in his features. “It won’t make it any better if I go up there. I’ve fucked it up enough as it is.”

“But—”

“Come on,” he softly pleaded, “let’s just go. We’ll get the troops she needs and…” _What? Do I honestly think that getting the extra troops will make anything better? After all that I’ve said and done since she came back?_ He shut his eyes and leaned forward to rest his head against Sylvain’s armored chest. 

He gritted his teeth as he sniveled, “I fucked it up, Syl. She… she was so angry and hurt… and it’s all my fault.”

Sylvain’s hand slowly came up to rest on the back of his head as the other rested on his lower back. He didn’t say anything, just stood there and held him for a while until he lightly pushed off of him and turned back to his horse. He straightened the rest of his saddlebags as he tried to ignore the weight of Sylvain’s stare. 

He turned and tried his best to ignore the redhead’s forlorn expression as he firmly said, “Let’s go.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well... that one was... hard. We've finally had an official Byleth breakdown/lash out. How's that for you? She's picking up some tricks from our favorite Faerghus boys. *cries softly*
> 
> Next chapter will be the boys interactions in Faerghus, as well as Byleth taking care of some necessary things back at the monastery. Hopefully once the boys get back, the trio will work things out. Sort of.
> 
> Let me know what you think. Let me know what you like and dislike. I would love to hear from you guys. Motivation is slightly flagging, so I'm updating a bit less with long ass chapters. I hope that's alright with you guys.


	15. always, i'll care

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Chapter title from always, i'll care by Jeremy Zucker 
> 
> Byleth has a busy day. She runs an important "errand", greets an old friend, and learns more about what happened while she was sleeping. However, the day doesn't end the way she thought it would.

~Byleth~  
  
_**Claude,**_

_**I'm so relieved that you and the Deer are alive and well. I’m sure Hilda has already told you, but it seems I was sleeping for almost five years. I’m not sure how to explain it, but the Battle of Garreg Mach feels like weeks ago, not years. It’s stressful and confusing, but I’ve pushed it aside until I can get more answers from Rhea about what exactly she did to me when I was born.** _

_**I cannot express how sorry I am for your worry, and the loss of your resources in trying to find me.** _

_**It seems that Sothis contacted the Lions that made the promise the night of the White Heron Cup through a dream. I’m not sure how she did it, but the others seem to think that she’s brought us together so we can end this war, and end the suffering Fodlan has endured for the past five years.** _

_**I miss you, my friend, but I cannot come to you. My Lions need me, and the Knights of Seiros have rallied to me as the acting archbishop of the Church of Seiros. It’s not a position I ever desired, but I’m hoping to use it to bring peace. We’ve successfully defended against the first wave of Edelgard’s attempts to re-secure the monastery, though I expect more in the coming weeks.** _

_**There is so much I wish to tell you, but a letter will not suffice. I wish to see your face as I tell you all I have come to learn. However, I will warn you of this. Please, be on your guard. I believe there is more to this war than solely Edelgard’s ambitions to rid Fodlan of the Church of Seiros and the Crest system. I believe there are other forces at work—people like Solon and Kronya— that are working to make sure Edelgard succeeds. I do not know what their end goal is, but please be safe. They could be anyone, just like Tomas and Monica.** _

_**Please consider working with us, Claude. If the Knights of Seiros, the remainder of the Kingdom of Faerghus, and the Alliance stand together, Edelgard and her benefactors will fail. I know that you have gone through great trials to get where you are, and I am incredibly proud of the leadership you have shown, but the time for neutrality has long since ended.** _

_**I miss you. I hope that there will come a time where we can work together once again.** _

_**-Byleth Eisner** _

She folded and sealed the letter with the seal stamp that Seteth had arranged for her, bearing the Crest of Flames. She stood from her place at the crowded tea table and walked into the office to find Balthus dozing on the cot she had brought up for him. She knocked on the door frame, and he raised his head.

“What’s up, pal?” he asked, already more alert.

“I need to run an errand,” she explained, “but I need to pick up Caspar first. Come with me?”

“Sure! Think he’ll want to spar after?” he called as he rolled out of the cot to follow her out the door. 

She chuckled slightly and murmured, “I think he might be busy for a while, but we could do some training if you’d like?”

“Heck yeah! I’ve been wanting to go one on one again since the first time! You’ve been so busy lately,” he playfully whined with a shove of her shoulder.

“I know,” she tiredly sighed, “but now that we’ve defended the monastery, I'm not going to be as busy until we have contact from Lord Rodrigue and the Margrave.”

“Are you missing your pals?” Balthus teased with a push of her shoulder.

“They’ve only been gone a day,” she responded in a neutral tone, unease creeping up the back of her neck. She pushed away, instead focusing on her next task.

She pulled open the training ground doors and found Leonie and Caspar sparring in the center of the ring. She circled them, calling out tips on form, but mostly watching their technique. They had both come far since she had been… away. Caspar was much taller and stronger, making his strength with an axe formidable. She guessed that had something to do with his stay in Goneril territory. She had heard great things about Holst Goneril, and she knew Hilda was a lot better with an axe than she ever let on.

Leonie had come far as well, mostly excelling as a Bow Knight, but she was quite formidable with a lance when the need arose. Joel had informed her that she had quickly become a vital part of the crew, and ingrained herself as a leader and strong fighter. Joel had come to rely on her work ethic and positive attitude a lot over the years.

Leonie came out on top in the spar and immediately ran to Byleth for tips and-- Byleth assumed-- praise. Leonie had made it clear from the moment she returned that she still aimed to become stronger than her, but she had also pledged loyalty to her and offered to become part of whatever guard she needed in battle and at the monastery. She rather loudly proclaimed that she had made a promise to Jeralt that if anything happened to him, she would look out for Byleth. 

It seemed her father had had more than a few of those conversations, what with Leonie, Alois… Felix.

She really missed Jeralt.

“Caspar,” she pulled the blue-haired fighter’s attention away from his boisterous conversation with Balthus, “I have an errand to run. Would you like to come with me?”

“Huh?” Caspar rubbed the back of his neck and tilted his head. “Uhhh… yeah? I was going to keep training, but if you need help, I can totally do that.”

She fought the urge to snort and a little more forcefully suggested, “Maybe you should bathe and change before we go. Balthus and I are going to pick up some food, so you can meet us at the dining hall when you’re ready.”

“Bathe and…” Caspar’s eyes went wide as excitement bloomed like a flower across his features, “Oh! Yeah! Be right back.” He ran out the door as Balthus and Leonie both turned and gave her a weird look.

“What?” she asked with a serious face, “I don’t want to smell him while he’s helping me with errands.”

Leonie wrinkled her nose in disgust and seemed to accept the excuse, while Balthus just shrugged and followed her out the door. She figured Balthus was used to secrecy and half answers after working with Yuri for so long.

Balthus chattered away, telling her a--most likely exaggerated--story about a monster he had to take down when Hapi accidentally sighed one time, and she half-listened as they walked to the dining hall.

“Professor!” Flayn called her name as soon as she entered. “How are you doing this morning? I do hope all is well.” 

Things with the green-haired father and daughter duo had been tense ever since the events at the Holy Tomb, or rather, since she had been back. She still went out of her way to greet Flayn and make sure she was doing alright, but spending too much time around her made it tempting to try and get answers from her. As unhappy as she was with Seteth’s silence, she couldn’t bring herself to use Flayn like that. She was far too fond of the young girl. 

The young girl who hadn’t seemed to age in the slightest while she was gone… But again… she wasn’t going to manipulate Flayn. 

“I’m well, Flayn. How are you?” She hugged the girl tightly before moving to grab a ration of food. Supplies were still scarce, but now that they were less busy planning for a counter attack, the Knights of Seiros were able to go to the surrounding villages to look for merchants to invite to the monastery. Seteth expected the monks and pilgrims to start showing up any day, as well.

“I would feel better if this tension between you and my brother would come to an end,” the young girl solemnly replied. “Is there nothing I can do to help you both?”

She patted Flayn’s head and sighed, “We’re fine, Flayn. He’s been a great help to me in the last several days. He has my gratitude for all he has done.”

“But he is worried, Professor,” Flayn pouted, “He tells me that you will not share the visions that the goddess is granting you. Is there nothing he can do to—”

“Your _brother_ has made it very clear that he is withholding knowledge from me. He asked for my trust, but it does not seem fair to give him mine, when I do not have his,” she curtly interjected. 

“I see,” Flayn mumbled as she bowed her head.

She sighed, recomposing herself. “I adore you, Flayn,” she whispered as she hugged the girl tightly, “and I rely greatly on your brother. He and I just don’t see eye to eye on this issue.”

“I understand,” Flayn sighed with glistening eyes. “I’m sorry, Professor. I wish I could help you.”

“I know,” she assured her. “But I don’t want you to say anything that would put strain between the two of you. Family is very important.”

“But you are family,” Flayn insisted as she took Byleth’s hand. Her eyes widened for a moment before she stammered, “Well… I certainly consider you family. I would not be here if it weren’t for you, after all.”

“Thank you, Flayn,” she affectionately chuckled. “I don’t have any family to my name, so any additions are welcome.”

“Hey, Professor!” Caspar eagerly called from the door, “Is it time to go?” That had been remarkably fast. It seemed he did indeed figure out where they were going.

“Just about,” she agreed, “I’ll see you later, Flayn.” 

“Goodbye, Professor!” the young girl called with a cheery smile and a wave. 

Caspar and Balthus followed her out of the gates of the monastery, and after several minutes of walking, Balthus hesitantly asked, “So… uhh… where are we going, pal?”

“You get to meet my—” Caspar excitedly started, but cut off when a loud and cheery call of “CASPAR!” filled the air. They entered a small clearing with a massive wyvern, and in a rush of pink, Hilda flung herself into her boyfriend’s arms.

“That hair…” Balthus stammered as he moved behind her, like her tiny frame could hide his much larger one, “That voice… It can’t be…”

“BALTIE?!” Hilda screeched as she quickly untangled herself from Caspar and marched over with her fists planted on her hips. “Where in the eternal flames have you _been_? Holst has been worried _sick_! What are you doing here?!”

Byleth and Caspar asked in unison, “You guys know each other?”

From his place still behind Byleth, Balthus stammered, “Hey… Hilda. Lovely as ever. Everybody well in Goneril?”

Hilda pointed an angry finger at Balthus and sternly said, “Uh uh, Baltie. You’ve got some major explaining to do.”

Byleth cleared her throat to draw the pinkette’s attention and asked, “Hilda, how do you know Balthus?”

“Baltie grew up with Holst, so he was like a weird older brother to me growing up,” Hilda explained, “That is, until he left House Albrecht, stepping away as heir, and vanished off the face of FODLAN!” The stern voice was back as she glared daggers at Balthus, behind her. Well… really she was just looking over her head.

She then turned her sharp gaze on Byleth, though it didn’t work nearly as well as it had on Balthus. “How do YOU know Baltie?”

“She’s the new boss,” Balthus explained with a nervous chuckle, “I keep Byleth here safe. She pays me gold and everything!”

“She does?!” Caspar squawked as his eyebrows shot up. That wasn't really a detail that she had been spreading among her students. Not for any particular reason, it just hadn't seemed important. Perhaps she should have, though.

Hilda ignored her boyfriend in favor of asking, “And are you using that gold to pay off your numerous debts, or are you still running away?”

“Fair question,” Byleth added while she stepped to the side, clearing Hilda’s path. “What are you doing with the gold I gave you?”

Balthus gave her a look of utter betrayal that almost pulled a snort of laughter out of her. “Well… you see… Yuri took most of it… because… ya know… I owe him A LOT of coin…” Balthus stammered, looking between her and Hilda with wide eyes and his hands raised in surrender. The fact that a man of his size was obviously intimidated by the two of them was absolutely comical. Though… she had kicked his ass before.

She’d pay gold to see Hilda and Balthus go head to head. It would probably be hilarious. 

“Oh, Baltie,” Hilda groaned playfully, before throwing herself into the King of Grappling’s arms. “I’m so glad you’re okay. Holst and I thought the worst had happened. He hasn’t heard from you in _years_!”

I’m sorry Hilda,” he sincerely apologized, the intimidation melting into something softer as he hugged her back, “I didn’t mean to worry you guys. I just had to lay low for a while, and I didn’t want you two getting caught up in the mess I made.”

After he put Hilda down, she chimed, “You know… I could bring you back with me. Then I could ask Holst to pay off your debts so you can—”

“Don’t you speak a word of this to Holst!” Balthus blurted out, a look of terror on his face. “He’s a close friend, I’d hate to ruin what we have by borrowing gold.”

“A close friend who doesn’t even know if you’re _alive_ ,” Hilda accused with a sharp look.

“And you obviously borrow gold from Yuri,” Byleth added, fighting off a smug grin because BOY was it fun to mess with Balthus. Yuri was going to be so jealous he missed this.

“Byleth… pal,” Balthus begged, “not you, too.”

She shook her head with a small snort. Then in a more serious tone she said, “I think we need to discuss just how in deep you are. Then I’ll see what I can do about getting you salaried so you can begin to pay it all off.”

“You mean it?!” he asked with wide eyes, “But… wait… I owe the church money too. If I’m salaried, they’ll just take from it.”

“Balthus,” she deadpanned, “I’m the acting archbishop.”

“Oh…” realization slowly widened his eyes as his jaw dropped open, “Oh yeah!” Balthus hollered as he picked her up and spun her around. “You’re the best friend I ever had, did ya know that?”

“Excuse me?!” Hilda shrieked from behind her as Byleth threw her head back with a laugh. “How long have you guys even KNOWN each other?!”

“Approximately twelve days,” Byleth replied with a sympathetic shrug once Balthus had put her down.

“Oh my…” Hilda groaned, as she lightly smacked her forehead, “How does everyone just… love you?!” As if proving her own point, she grabbed Byleth in a crushing hug. “How did you guys even meet, anyway?”

“I’ve been laying real low in Abyss the past couple years,” Balthus explained while rubbing the back of his neck.

“Abyss is real?” Hilda incredulously asked. “I always thought it was just some sort of urban legend.”

“Nope, it’s very real. When Byleth here came back to the monastery, Yuri—our leader—got talked into asking Byleth for help. We’ve been helping with the war effort, and she’s been helping us down in Abyss,” Balthus replied. 

He straightened and asked, “Wait… what are YOU doing here?”

“I’ve become a glorified messenger, if you can believe it,” Hilda whined as she walked over to lean against Caspar. The blue-haired brawler wrapped his arms around her with a sweet—if somewhat goofy-- grin on his face. She smiled sweetly up at him before turning her head to face Byleth. “Claude just about flipped out when I told him you’d been sleeping for five years. He thought I was joking.”

“Claude?” Balthus asked in an incredulous tone, “Like, Claude von Riegan? Like, leader of the Alliance Grand Duke Claude von Riegan?”

“Yeah,” Byleth sighed affectionately, “he’s an… old friend.”

“An old friend,” Balthus chuckled incredulously, “I guess I forgot you taught the future leaders of Fodlan.”

“Yup,” a bit of her sorrow slipped into her tone as she added, “I taught them all how to wage war on each other.”

“Hey now,” Hilda softly chided, “this war is not your fault, it’s Edelgard’s. She’s the one who started the damned thing!” She patted Caspar’s shoulder and said, “Sorry, baby.”

“Nah,” Caspar sighed, “I get it. I wasn’t overly fond of her, anyway. She always made everything about her, and assumed that everyone felt the same about everything as she did.” He chuckled nervously and scratched his cheek as he murmured, “I guess that’s kinda why she started this war in the first place.”

“Nothing for it now… we just gotta fight until we end it,” Balthus firmly stated with a pat on her shoulder. 

“I assume that means you’re not coming to Derdriu any time soon?” Hilda asked as she twirled her hair around her finger, “Not that I’m surprised or anything, Claude was just really hoping you would.”

“I can’t,” she confirmed, “I’m acting archbishop, and my Lions need me.” She reached behind her to pull the letter for Claude from the back of her shorts. “Will you take this to Claude for me?”

“Oh yeah!” Hilda clapped her hands together with a gleeful giggle and squealed, “And I have real presents, this time!” She snatched the letter from her hand and grabbed Caspar’s hand. “Help me with the bags?”

“Sure, babe,” Caspar replied with an easy grin.

“I can’t believe she’s dating Caspar,” Balthus grumbled as the darling couple walked over to the dozing wyvern.

“You like Caspar,” she firmly reminded.

“Yeah, but I’ve gotta make sure he’s good enough for Hilda!” he retorted with an indignant look.

“He was living with the Gonerils while I was sleeping,” she chuckled, “From what I’ve heard about Holst, I’m sure he would have stepped in if he didn’t approve.”

“Good point,” Balthus conceded with a nervous chuckle. “It’s just… so weird… to like… see her with somebody.”

“Yeah,” she whispered in reply. She pushed the image of Felix’s face the other night from her mind and focused on Caspar and Hilda as they walked back toward her.

“I told Mr. Leader Man about how your stuff was trashed and lovingly suggested that that was just _unacceptable_ , which _of course_ he agreed,” she chattered with a saccharine grin, “So, I graciously offered to do the shopping for him, since he’s _such_ a busy guy…”

“On his gold I’m sure,” Byleth hummed, earning an exaggerated innocent look from Hilda.

“If there were a few things I slipped in for me, who’s to say?” she giggled.

“Figures,” Byleth chuckled. She was sure Claude knew, and had agreed anyway. The schemer and the pinkette worked really well together when they wanted to.

“Go behind the wyvern and keep yourselves entertained for a minute, won’t you boys?” Hilda batted her eyelashes and smiled at the guys, who looked at each other and shrugged before walking away. 

“Now, I figured you wouldn’t be able to get any of the more delicate things,” Hilda quickly jumped in as she dug through the bags, “So this bag is all your vital underthings, nightgowns, etcetera.” She pulled out a handful of various colored laces and shiny fabrics before shoving it back in the bag.

“Have I ever told you you’re the greatest?” she asked with a sigh of relief. The idea of telling Seteth what she needed was wildly unappealing in that regard, so she had put it off. She had been praying that Anna would come back to the monastery soon so she could talk to her. She missed her tights, and Anna always came through.

“Not _nearly_ enough,” Hilda playfully chimed, still digging through bags and pulling things out to give her glimpses of them. “This bag is full of some more formal clothes that I thought you would look perfect in, especially if you’re playing acting archbishop,” she cheerfully explained as she threw something at her. 

“Now try this on for me. I have to see it before I go,” she ordered. 

Byleth held out a pair of black high-waisted shorts with gold stitching in swirling patterns up each side, a white button-up shirt with long puffy sleeves, and a black cape with gold trim similar to the shorts and a golden circular clasp to keep it together. She shrugged and stripped off her coat, shoes, top, and shorts. She threw on the new clothes, smoothing them out a bit as Hilda continued to look through the bags. 

“Oh!” Hilda exclaimed, “These, too!” She threw over a pair of long, black heeled boots, that when Byleth slid them on, landed just above her knee.

“See?!” she giggled with her hands clasped together, “It’s so close to what you usually wear, but soooo much classier. You’re like a super sexy archbishop leader lady now!”

“It’s certainly better than the long white gowns Seteth got me,” she grumbled, still mad over that whole deal. Seteth had attempted to lecture her, saying she needed to dress like Rhea because it was what the monks and pilgrims would expect. She firmly reminded him where he could shove that idea. She was more of a commander than a religious leader, and he knew that. HE would wear the long white gowns before he got her to.

“Seteth is the one getting you things?!” Hilda exclaimed in mock horror, “Oh, I should have come sooner.” Byleth snorted out a laugh, which made Hilda smile charmingly before she got back to work. “Claude told me I had to get you training clothes, too,” she whined, “Way more boring, but I got you some cute stuff, too, just in case you wanted to show off what you’ve obviously got. Don’t worry, they are mostly black and grey. I know how you feel about wearing _colors_.”

She was a mercenary for most of her life. It’s hard to wear colors when blood gets on EVERYTHING. She didn’t feel the need to tell Hilda that, though. “I appreciate all the extra effort you put it. I’m sure it will all be great.” 

“Oh! And one more thing,” Hilda chirped before walking back over to the wyvern and pulling a tiny pouch and a letter out of one of the other saddlebags. “Mr. Leader Man asked me to make this for you.” The pinkette pulled out a golden necklace, with an elegant charm in the shape of the Crest of Flames dangling from it. “Isn’t it cute? Such a pain in the butt with your Crest, but STILL.”

“It’s beautiful,” she breathed, reaching out a finger to gingerly touch the intricate charm. “You MADE this?”

“Yup! I like making jewelry and things like that,” Hilda explained with a soft look in her eyes. “Besides, when Mr. Leader Man asked, I couldn’t say _no_. He was _so cute_ about it! He said it was so you would look elegant or something like that, but I didn’t buy it for a second.” She held out the letter and added, “And here’s his next love letter, too.”

“They aren’t love letters, Hilda,” she chided as heat rushed to her cheeks. She tucked the letter between her thighs and tried to get the necklace clasped around her neck, but she couldn’t get her fingers to do it and her hair kept getting in the way.

Hilda stepped up behind her and took the small clasp from her, working it effortlessly and then smoothing and adjusting her cape so it flowed over one shoulder. “It would be,” Hilda whined, “If Mr. Leader Man thought about anything other than politics and schemes. It wouldn’t kill him to find something that made him happy. I get there’s a war and all, but…” she pouted slightly and twirled her hair around her finger.

“You’re worried about him,” Byleth softly supplied. “I think it’s sweet.” 

“He just looks so tired and stressed out all the time,” Hilda lamented with a small frown, “The other Lords at the Roundtable are no help, constantly griping about this or that. Holst says he tries to help out and be on his side, but it’s tough to see.”

“I wish I could help,” she complained. “Unfortunately, I think all I can do is try to end the war. Though, that doesn’t help his issue with the Lords at the Roundtable. Those guys have always been assholes.”

“You say end the war like it’s such a simple thing,” Hilda giggled into her fist. “Though if anyone can do it, something tells me it’s you.” She walked over and pulled Byleth into a hug. “We really do miss having you around. There’s nobody to keep Claude in line now, and he’s all big headed because he’s Leader Man.”

Byleth chuckled and said, “I’m sure you keep him in line PLENTY. I miss the Deer, too. Tell everyone I say hi, alright?” She smiled at Hilda, who smiled back as she nodded. “Now… why don’t I get Balthus out of here so you and Caspar can catch up a bit before you go?”

“Yes, please!” Hilda crooned. “Baltie! Caspar! You can come back now!”

Byleth bent down to throw her other clothes and the letter in a bag, but stood up when she heard Balthus wolf whistle. “Damn, pal! Look at you in the nice clothes.” She winked over at him and went back to her work, slinging the bags over her shoulder when she was done.

“Be careful out here, you two,” she cautioned, “And I’ll see you back at the monastery in a bit, Caspar.”

“We’re leaving?” Balthus said, his eyes traveling over to Caspar and Hilda. When she nodded, he walked over and pulled the pinkette into a hug. “Tell Holst I say hi, will ya? And tell him I’ll try to write him soon.”

“You better,” Hilda warned with a playful shove. Then, in a softer voice she added, “I’m really glad you’re okay, Baltie.”

They walked in silence for a while before Byleth finally said, “So… Balthus Albrecht, formerly an heir apparent, now a glorified bodyguard with more bounties on his head than hair…” she cut him a playful look, “and you have a lot of hair.”

“Hey now!” he exclaimed in mock hurt, “I’m YOUR glorified body guard, pal. I’d say guarding the archbishop commander goddess thingy person makes me pretty important.” She snorted and shook her head, which made him grin smugly before it fell. “Are you mad I didn’t tell ya?”

“No,” she assured him, “I’m sure you have your reasons. You don’t have to tell me any more if you don’t want to, but I’ll listen if you ever need to talk about it. And I’m serious about getting you on a salary… strictly so you can pay off your debts. I’d like you to be able to do whatever you want once this war is over. No more hiding.”

“You’re… swell… ya know that?” he stammered before reaching over and taking some of the bags from her shoulders. He cleared his throat and changed the topic by saying, “Sooo… new threads from Duke Riegan, secret correspondence away from the monastery…” he gasped and wiggled his eyebrows before scandalously exclaiming, “Are you guys having an affair?!”

“I’ve been sleeping for five years, Balthus,” she deadpanned, “When did we have time for an affair?”

“Oh… right,” he mumbled as he tilted his head in thought.

“We’re being secretive because the other Lords of the Alliance wouldn’t take kindly to Claude communicating with a group of people who are not officially allies,” she explained in an effort to avoid any other theories from Balthus, “And the clothes are… well I’m not sure what the clothes are. I’m sure it’s just Hilda wanting to do some shopping on the Duke’s gold.”

“That’s probably true,” Balthus chuckled, “She always had a way of wrapping people around her finger. She’s a good girl.”

“I think you mean “delicate flower”,” she scoffed, making Balthus burst out laughing. 

They walked up to Byleth’s quarters and Balthus dropped the bags on the bed. “I need to change and do some things before we can go and train.”

“Sure pal, I’ll go hang out outside until you’re ready,” he called before walking out the door.

She pulled open the bags and looked through the one with the training clothes, mildly appreciating the fact that Hilda actually did cater to what she normally wears. She pulled on a black tank top-style cropped shirt with a high collar and a window over her chest, and some black shorts before walking over to the tea table to open Claude’s letter.

_**Teach!** _

_**There are reports of action at the monastery. Supposedly the Knights of Seiros are coming together from where they’ve been dispatched all over Fodlan. Would you know anything about that? There are also reports of a vanguard that’s traveling to retake the monastery, and I’m not saying I don’t believe in you, but I really hope this letter finds you safe and whole.** _

_**I’ve gotta say, friend, I’m more than a little disappointed you won’t be coming to Derdriu to work at my side. I figure with the Knights of Seiros and your Lions at the monastery there is no chance of me swaying you.** _

_**Once word comes that you have successfully defended the monastery, I’m sure the other Lords at the Roundtable will take you guys more seriously. However, I have a major setback when it comes to becoming allies. Count Gloucester, Lorenz’s father, has sided with Edelgard. Their territory borders the Great Bridge of Myrrdin, and he is the first line of defense—or rather the first casualty—if Edelgard decides to invade. She’s stretched thin on the western front, but no one listens to reason. More and more of the Lords are being swayed by Gloucester, and I’m losing what little hold I have on our neutrality.** _

_**Are you getting more troops? Are you marching on Faerghus? Are you marching on Enbarr? These are the questions that plague my mind. Tactically speaking, marching on Faerghus seems like the best route. However, you’re probably dealing with Dimitri, who was hell bent on getting Edelgard’s head five years ago. If I were a gambling man, I’d bet you were going to march on Enbarr. With your current troops, it’d be almost impossible… but if you pulled troops from the Kingdom rebels…** _

_**Forgive my ramblings, I’m trying to get inside my beautiful Teach’s head again. I hope you like the clothes Hilda brought. I tried to rein her in a bit, but you know how that woman gets. The Alliance has been set back financially with the war, but not nearly as much as the Church and the Kingdom rebels have been, so I wanted to make sure you were taken care of.** _

_**It doesn’t seem right for you to come back to absolutely nothing, not after all you did for me and the rest of the Deer. We all know we wouldn’t have gotten out of the monastery and back to the Alliance safely if it weren’t for you and your brilliant backup plans. Consider this a long overdue thank you.** _

_**I miss you, friend. I hope that fate brings us together soon.** _

_**Your friend,** _  
_**Claude von Riegan** _

She brought the letter to her chest with a disappointed sigh before walking it over to the bin near the desk in the office and burning it. She could tell everyone that she commissioned the clothes in Abyss, but she couldn’t explain away a letter from Claude. She would tell everyone about their communication when it was necessary, but not until then.

She walked out into the Star Terrace and found Balthus lounging on a bench. “Are you bored with this job?” she asked with a tilt of her head, “Would you like it more if I set up shifts with other people so you could have days to do whatever you want?”

“Nah,” Balthus shrugged and rolled to his feet, “It’s not the most eventful, but you’re paying me a lot for the very little I do. Besides,” he added in a more serious tone, “the more things pick up with the war, the more danger you’ll be in. If something happened to you, everyone here would fall to pieces! I can’t let that happen.”

“I appreciate your worry,” she sighed, “but I can take care of myself. I mostly hired you to get Seteth off my back and help you out.”

“I know, but I’m a pro when it comes to being ready for random attacks. The only person better is Yuri, but he’s busy all the time so he can’t watch out for you,” he retorted.

She sighed in resignation and nodded her head. “Alright, alright. Let’s go and get some training in, I could use a good work out.” 

“Professor!” As if the universe was laughing at her, Cyril’s voice called from near the stairs, and she turned to greet the young man. She didn’t even open her mouth before he hurriedly said, “Manuela and the members of the old opera troupe have arrived with the orphan kids! They are in the Entrance Hall! Seteth thought you would want to know!”

Her chest grew warm and she hurried to thank Cyril and motion for Balthus to follow her before running down the two flights of stairs to the ground floor and toward the Entrance Hall. “Who’s Manuela?” Balthus asked as they ran.

“She’s one of the other professors from the Officer’s Academy. She taught the Black Eagles,” she explained while weaving around a knight with a wave. “She’s been helping war orphans with her old opera troupe, The Mittelfrank Opera Company.”

Balthus pulled open the door for her and she ran in, beaming as she spotted Manuela, already bickering with Hanneman. “Manuela!”

“Ah! Byleth!” the songstress sang as she turned with a big smile, “I couldn’t believe it when Dorothea wrote to tell me you were alive! And just LOOK at you! You look exactly the same! Five years at your age, I would expect you to have changed at least a little bit.” 

“It’s just as I was explaining, Manuela,” Hanneman chided in an exasperated tone, “It has something to do with her—”

“Yes, yes,” Manuela sighed, “her fabulous Crest. Well if your Crest gives you eternal youth, I would appreciate some of that. I may still look fabulous, but—”

“I’ll say!” Balthus boomed with a wolf whistle. “What is up with the hiring process for the Officer’s Academy? Do you have to be a total babe in order to teach noble brats? Why didn’t my professors look like you guys?”

“Oh,” Manuela giggled flirtatiously and turned to face Balthus, “well… thank you. We’ve been traveling for quite some time now, so I’m certainly not at my best, but…”  
Byleth chuckled and gestured between them. “Balthus, this is Manuela. Manuela, this is Balthus. Seteth was bugging me about having someone with me at all times, so I’ve hired Balthus to watch my back.”

“And with muscles like those,” Manuela leaned over to whisper in her ear, “I’d like to watch him watch your back.” Byleth fought to keep a straight face as the older woman giggled into her fist.

“As the other professor at the Officer’s Academy, I would like to object to the fact that the hiring process requires you to be a “babe” in order to teach the children,” Hanneman grumpily interjected.

“I was hired based on my academic achievements, as well as my magical prowess.”

“Yes, Hanneman, no one is accusing you of being good looking,” Manuela teased.

“I think he has a special sort of appeal,” Dorothea cooed as she walked toward them and pulled Manuela into a hug, “wouldn’t you say, Byleth?”

“I’m staying firmly out of this,” she objected as she raised her hands and took a step back. Hoping to change the subject, she quickly asked, “Has Seteth been by to tell you where we’re putting the kids and your old troupe?”

“Yes, he was just here. He’s taking everyone to their new rooms as we speak. I really can’t thank you enough. The Imperial soldiers were getting to be more and more of a problem, I didn’t know what we were supposed to do,” Manuela lamented.

“It’s not a problem,” she assured, “Seteth and I firmly believe that we should help the surrounding communities as much as we can. Unfortunately, we don’t have much in the way of resources right now, but at least they are safe for the time being. And if you wouldn’t mind, we’d love for you to run the infirmary again with Flayn as your right hand.” Most likely running it when Manuela is inevitably hungover or sleeping in, but the healer’s skills were beyond question.

“Of course,” Manuela nodded gracefully, “Whatever I can do to help, sweetheart.”

“Balthus and I were just about to go and train for a bit before my meeting with Seteth and Yuri this evening. Let me know if I can do anything to help, alright?”

“Oh, don’t you worry, I’m sure we’ll be just fine,” Manuela cooed, “You two have fun, now!” 

She waved them off, and once they were out the doors Balthus chuckled, “Damn! A bodacious older woman with a heart of gold, and a singing voice to boot?! I think I’m in love!”

“She’s...” Byleth nodded slowly as she tried not to laugh, “She’s an interesting woman. A skilled healer, drinks like a mercenary, and has a big heart.”

“Sold,” Balthus exclaimed, “You gotta help me out, pal. Ya know, talk me up, get her to come and watch me train sometime. Ladies can’t resist the Almighty King of Grappling when he’s training.” 

Honestly, it sounded like a mess just waiting to happen, but there was a possibility that they could make each other happy, so… “Sure, why not?” she sighed. “But right now, we’re training, so focus up.”

  
She and Balthus trained for two hours with weights and sparring. She regretfully left, bathing and getting dressed before heading to the Cardinal Room, where she met Seteth and Yuri.

“That’s… new…” Seteth stammered as she walked in in the outfit that Hilda had given her earlier. He looked her over quickly before making eye contact with her again and raising an eyebrow in question. He looked slightly peeved, and she could only imagine it was because she wasn’t wearing one of those damned gowns.

She made eye contact with Yuri as she lied, “Yuri set me up with some new clothes.” His perfectly sculpted eyebrow went up the slightest bit before he nodded in confirmation.

“You can take the night off, B. I’ve got her from here,” Yuri called to Balthus, waving his hand in farewell.

“Nice! See ya later, pal. I’m gonna go chat up that fox we met earlier.” Balthus grinned with a wiggle of his eyebrows and walked out the door.

“Do I want to know?” Yuri asked in a bored tone.

“Manuela,” she shrugged, and Seteth coughed slightly into his sleeve as he shook his head. “Alright, I asked you guys here because now that we have defended the monastery and built up our defenses, I need to get up to speed on the big players of this war.” 

She walked over to stand at the head of the table, looking down at the map. “Dimitri is dead set on Enbarr, and taking down Edelgard.” She pointed to the point on the map and bit back a grimace at the thought of her young student. “Who are her top generals, and where are they from?”

“Her right-hand man is Hubert von Vestra, obviously,” Seteth started, “He’s taken over his father’s position as Minister to the Imperial Household.

“He’s also got an extensive network of spies, mages, and assassins that my birds and I have been struggling with for years,” Yuri gritted out, his eyes filled with fury. 

“He’s got a grudge when it comes to me, unfortunately,” she hesitantly reported, “He threatened to kill me the moment I got here, and me pinning him to a wall in front of his mistress probably didn’t help that.”

“You WHAT?!” Seteth spluttered, his features twisted in what looked like a perfect mixture of disbelief and irritation.

“He probably deserved it,” Yuri defended, “The guy’s a piece of work. I wouldn’t put it past him to send people after you, seeing as the rat certainly doesn’t fight fair. It’s a good thing you’ve got B, but you need to be on guard.”

She already knew that, but she appreciated the hint of concern in Yuri’s eyes. “What about Petra and Ferdinand?” she asked, looking down at the map.

“Petra, the Princess of Brigid, is known as a terror in the skies. Swords, flying, lances, she’s well trained in all of it,” Yuri reported.

“Who do you think taught her?” she grumbled, remembering flying lessons with Ingrid, Petra, and herself, and the sword training seminars Petra would attend. “Edelgard’s threatening her people, or she was five years ago. If we can show that we are able to defeat Edelgard, she may surrender. If she surrenders, we avoid future conflict with Brigid.” 

She turned to Yuri and asked, “Do you have any of your birds in Enbarr? Would it be possible to get her a message, or at least see what kind of circumstances she’s living in?”

“A few,” he hesitantly supplied, “though that particular task may be difficult. I’ll see what I can do.” 

Seteth cleared his throat and interjected, “Ferdinand von Aegir’s family was stripped of their nobility. Some speculate it is due to the former Prime Minister’s role in the Insurrection of the Seven. Either way, von Aegir has become one of her top generals.” 

“I don’t know why Ferdinand is doing this,” she murmured, staring at Aegir territory on the map, “His entire life was his nobility. He told me he wished to advise Edelgard that the war was wrong. He said the bloodshed of innocents was wrong, and that the war couldn’t be justified because of it. I don’t understand why he’s still there if she’s obviously not stopping.”

“Do you think Edelgard could be threatening him, as well?” Seteth suggested in a solemn tone.

“She may very well have his family,” Yuri speculated with a hand on his chin, “If he’s being forced, there might not be a way to avoid killing him.”

“There’s a way,” Byleth firmly said, planting her hands on the map, “I don’t plan on killing my former students.”

“The question isn’t whether you plan on it,” Yuri calmly reminded, “it’s whether you have what it takes to do what you must.”

“We won’t worry about that now,” she gritted out with a firm shake of her head. “Tell me who else Edelgard relies on.”

“Lord Volkhard Arundel is her uncle,” Yuri stated with a finger on Arundel territory, “Not much is known about him.”

“Arundel…” she whispered. She knew that name. Edelgard’s uncle, so that would make it… “I’ve seen him before,” she muttered, “he came to the monastery.” Dimitri was talking to him, and that was the day that he told her about his secret relation to Edelgard. 

She stood up straight and turned to Yuri with wide eyes. 

Arundel was there… at Duscur. Arundel was the dark-haired man she had seen. She knew he looked familiar, but hadn’t been able to place him until now. Arundel was the one who was laughing. Arundel was the one that said the woman had failed to provide Dimitri. Arundel was one of the people behind the deaths of King Lambert, Glenn, and all of those other knights.

Yuri put a hand on top of hers, and she looked down to realize that she had crushed part of the map between her fists. He looked at her with a raised eyebrow, and she took a deep breath in and out of her nose before letting go. 

“I remember him coming to the monastery,” Seteth interjected with a questioning tone, “Did he do something to offend you?”

“No,” she curtly responded with a shake of her head, “I didn’t even speak with him. Just saw him briefly.”

“Is everything alright?” Seteth put a hand on her shoulder and she turned to him as she nodded briefly.

“I’m fine. Please, continue.” She smoothed the map out as best she could and tried to focus on the conversation, tucking the issue away for when she could speak to Yuri privately.

“Ladislava is Edelgard’s last important general,” Yuri added, thankfully getting the conversation back on track. “The word through the grapevine is that she started as the leader of Edelgard’s personal guard, but rose through the ranks to make General. She’s extremely loyal, and highly capable. The only other general of note was General Randolph von Bergliez, but you already took care of him.”

“Right,” she whispered, trying to push away memories of Dimitri’s torture victim. “Is there anyone else of note that has sided with the Empire, besides the obvious ones like Cornelia and the nobles in the Western part of Faerghus?”

“I believe Count Gloucester from the Alliance is an Imperial supporter, as well as a few other minor nobles, though their hands are tied by those that are against joining the war at the Roundtable. That’s probably the only reason Edelgard hasn’t invaded the Alliance yet,” Yuri speculated.

“Well, that and she’s had her hands full subjugating Faerghus,” Seteth interjected. “She’s had to fight off some rebellion from her own people, as well. Those that were devote followers of the Church of Seiros and revolted against her regime. Some fled the Empire, others stayed to try and fight and were slaughtered.”

“Alright, that takes care of the Empire,” she muttered, “Now fill me in on the Alliance.”

“Claude von Riegan has taken over as Grand Duke of the Alliance. He is a major part of the reason that the Alliance has remained neutral in the war,” Seteth somewhat grumbled with his eyebrows furrowed. The man was not a fan of Claude during the Academy days. The schemer deserved his ire after all of the stunts he pulled, though. 

“House Gloucester has opposed House Riegan for almost as long as the Alliance has been around. That coupled with the fact that Gloucester lands border the Great Bridge of Myrddin, which is under firm Imperial control, explains why Gloucester’s siding with Empire,” Yuri hummed thoughtfully.

She kept her tone as even as she could as she said, “If we were to march on Enbarr as Dimitri is insisting, we would need to cross the Great Bridge of Myrddin, or risk trekking the Oghma mountains.”

“Correct,” Seteth nodded, watching her carefully.

“If we were to take the Great Bridge of Myrddin, perhaps we could negotiate with Count Gloucester. If he’s the main Imperial supporter…”

“If he’s swayed, we could potentially convince von Riegan and the other Lords to join us,” Yuri finished as he continued to look at the map.

“That’s if we are even able to obtain more troops,” Seteth cautioned.

“We will,” she firmly insisted. “Felix and Sylvain will persuade their fathers. The Kingdom rebels don’t have a choice. We’re their only shot of putting their king on the throne.”

“We would have to fight Gloucester troops in order to even get to the Bridge,” Yuri pointed out, “We would be killing the soldiers of the man we would later be trying to ally with.”

“We wouldn’t want to do that,” she agreed with pursed lips. “I’ll think on it for a while longer. I have no desire to fight the Alliance, and I’m fairly certain they don’t wish to fight us. The quicker we can make them an official ally, the better.”

“You are deciding that we should march on Enbarr, rather than Faerghus?” Seteth asked with a raised eyebrow.

She sighed heavily and said, “Tactically I would say that we should take Faerghus back, free up more troops, and then take on Edelgard. Unfortunately, I doubt Dimitri can be reasoned with. I’ll try my hand until more troops arrive, but revenge against Edelgard has been his sole focus for over five years. I doubt he’ll be thinking tactically, so that leaves us to do it for him. Even if the Knights of Seiros went back and took Faerghus without him, it wouldn’t mean anything without being able to put Dimitri on the throne. If we want to end the war, we have to stick with him.” 

“Rhea is almost certainly a captive in Enbarr,” Seteth added, “As such, the Knights of Seiros would be more than willing to follow your command to march toward Enbarr.”

“Right…” she whispered, “Rhea.” She took a deep breath and stood up straight. “Thank you for going over that with me. I think we should try to come up with ideas on the best way to take the Great Bridge of Myrddin without fighting Gloucester troops. I’m certain that will be our next big hurdle as soon as we have the troops we need. For now, let’s keep it between us.” Both of them nodded in agreement.

“I’ve got something to discuss with you,” Yuri said with a nod of his head toward the door, “Your room?”

She nodded. “Sure. Do you need anything from me right now, Seteth?”

“No,” Seteth said with a wave of his hand, “We should be fine for the evening. Thank you.”

As soon as Yuri shut and locked the door behind her, he turned on her. “You want to explain what that was?” he asked in an easy tone.

“Which part?” she nonchalantly asked, as she unclasped her cape and hung it on a coat rack near the door.

“Let’s start with the clothes,” he hummed, “I certainly didn’t get you those, so who are they actually from?”

“Claude von Riegan,” she replied in the same easy tone he was using, “We’ve secretly been in contact since I returned to the monastery. He asked me to keep it quiet because if the other Lords find out—”

“They’ll have something against him, and he’s barely keeping neutrality as it is,” Yuri interjected with a smirk. “That kid gave me more than enough trouble while he was at the Academy. He almost stumbled on a few entrances to Abyss before I could distract him.”

“There’s more than the one?” she asked with a raised eyebrow.

“I’ve sealed the others since then,” he informed her as he moved to sit on the bed, “I was trying to keep the masked mages away, but they always seemed to find a way in.” He leaned back on his arms and hummed, “Friend of yours?”

“Yes,” she easily admitted. “We’ve had a few bumps in the road, but we were close while he was at the Academy. He said the clothes were a thank you for getting he and the Deer out of the monastery in time. I planned out their escape and stashed their supplies, just in case the monastery fell.”

“Suuuuure…” Yuri cooed with a cocky grin.

“What?” she deadpanned and put her hands on her hips.

Yuri stood and walked over to her, getting close enough to trail a finger over the gold embroidering up the side of her shorts. “Exactly how platonic was this little friendship of yours?”

“Well…” she sighed and rolled her eyes, “he did kiss me once… or twice.”

“That’s what I thought,” Yuri chuckled. “He’s put his color on you, friend. His Highness would have placed some blue, and the Emperor would have weaved in some red, but the same point applies.”

“Hilda is the one who did the shopping,” she objected.

“Mhmmm… sure,” he hummed. “So, the Duke wants to ally with you, but his hands are a bit tied. I’m sure he mentioned Gloucester and that’s why you brought it up just now?”

“Yes,” she admitted, “If we can take away Gloucester’s excuse, perhaps we can get him to side with us. If we get him on our side, Claude can probably convince the others to follow. I’ll write him a letter and suggest that he come up with a distraction for Gloucester’s forces, so we can march through to the Bridge undisturbed. Clear the Bridge, hopefully obtain a massive ally.”

“Hopefully,” Yuri retorted, “Alliance Lords are as fickle as they come. However, having von Riegan in your corner rather than Edelgard’s is an advantage I will take.” 

He brushed some hair behind her ear and asked, “So, are you going to tell me what was that reaction to Arundel was about?” with a trickle of concern in his tone.

“Arundel was in my vision in the Holy Tomb,” she whispered, “Arundel was involved with Duscur.”

“The Regent of the Empire was involved in the Tragedy that killed the King of Faerghus,” Yuri hummed with a small frown.

“He’s obviously involved with the masked mages. The question is, was he another pawn or was he one of the people in charge?” She tilted her head to her fist and pursed her lips in thought. “He was angry at the woman I saw him with. He said that she failed to provide them the boy, which I can only assume meant Dimitri. The woman looked absolutely terrified.”

“What did the woman look like?” Yuri prodded, “Do you remember?”

She massaged her temples and closed her eyes, trying to think. “I remember she was in fine clothes… light brown hair… light purple eyes…”

She opened her eyes and sighed, “I’m sorry, that’s all I remember. They were still talking, but when Sylvain took me off the throne, it stopped the vision. I’m missing something important… I just don’t know what it is.”

“What if you sat on the throne again?” Yuri suggested, “Do you think it might happen again?”

“It might be worth a try,” she hesitantly said, “but it would require going through Seteth. He’s on my ass already about not sharing the information I have received so far.”

Yuri furrowed his eyebrows and asked, “Why aren’t you telling him?” 

“Because he knows something about what Rhea did to me, and he’s not telling me,” she grumbled, “I don’t trust him with something like this.”

“You’re withholding information like this out of spite?” he incredulously asked. “Don’t get me wrong, I don’t trust him either. But this is a bit bigger than all that, don’t you think?”

“If I bring it up to him, I have to bring up everything. If he gets involved, we draw more attention to the fact that we’re looking,” she reminded him, “This isn’t about spite. This is about who I trust to look into this for me, and so far, that list only includes you and Lin.” She poked his chest lightly with a stern look.

“I still think you should ask about going down to the Tomb again,” he retorted, “You are Miss Vessel of the Goddess-- What is he going to do? Say no?”

“He very well might,” she sighed, “But I’ll talk to him about it.” 

“Good,” he hummed. He moved to go and sit down on the lounger at the foot of the bed and asked, “Now are we going to talk about what happened the other night?”

“What do you mean?” she asked in an easy tone, trying to disguise the unease creeping up her spine.

“I’m not normally one to talk about feelings,” he sighed in a put-upon way, “but that was… something. I’ve never seen you like that before. There’s obviously more going on between the three of you than I thought, and I didn’t intend to get caught up in the middle of it.”

Yuri hummed softly and added, “I’m all for having some fun with Fraldarius, but that was…” he wrinkled his nose with a slight frown, “he was actually upset.”

“I know…” she sighed heavily as she sank down onto the lounger beside him, “I never should have yelled at him like that. I shouldn’t have said the things I did. I don’t know why… I just…”

“He’s been so off with me ever since I came back,” she attempted to explain, “He and Sylvain apparently got together while I was sleeping, but they didn’t feel like they could tell me. They obviously still have feelings for each other, but something is getting in the way. Now everything feels weird between us, and I don’t know what to do! I try to fix it, and he pushes me away!”

“So… they got together, but aren’t together now?” Yuri asked with an eyebrow raised.

“I don’t know. Neither of them will just… tell me! Sylvain said he fell in love with someone while I was sleeping, and I knew something was off between them. Then, the night I came down to Abyss to talk to you and Balthus, I found them right as they were about to KISS.”

“So that’s what you were all stressed out about,” Yuri hummed with a look of recognition.

“Yes. When I asked them about it, Felix told me it was none of my business, but they are my best friends! How is it none of my business?!”

“Well… I mean… it’s not,” Yuri shrugged. “Whether they are in love or whatever is for them to find out. Yeah, it’s weird that it happened while you were… sleeping, and it’s more complicated for you because you are their friend, but that doesn’t make it your business.”

“But I’m just trying to help,” she angrily pleaded.

“It’s obviously not helping, though,” Yuri argued. 

She turned to him and said, “Either way, he never should have barged in here, and he never should have yelled at you like that.”

“He’s protective of you,” Yuri shrugged, “I’ve known that since I met you.”

“He’s not my keeper, and he’s not my father. He yells at me about every decision I make, questions me at every turn, tells me that it’s none of my business when I bring up the things that are bothering him. I’m tired of it. It doesn’t even feel like we’re friends anymore.” She groaned in frustration and dropped her head again. “But I really shouldn’t have yelled at him. I’ve only made things worse.”

“Alright,” he cooed, beginning to rub her shoulders, “that’s enough stress for you for a minute. Your friends will come back in a few days, and you can talk to Felix then. I’m sure you’ll be his first stop. In fact, I’d put money on it.”

She chuckled dryly and fought back a lump in her throat. “I don’t know,” she lightly rasped, “He’s very good at avoiding things like this.”

“I saw his face, friend,” Yuri cooed, “He’ll be here.”

She sighed and said, “I thought you didn’t like Felix? You’re always purposefully doing things to make him angry.”

“I don’t dislike him, he’s just fun to mess with. He does hold importance because you told me he was your first friend, right?” Yuri pressed firmer on her shoulders and she sighed in relief. She and Balthus may have gone a bit too hard in training today. She was definitely going to have bruises in the morning, and her muscles were already sore.

“It’s more than that,” she whispered as she looked down at her hands laying on her lap, “He was the first person other than my father to see me as a person. He was so young when we met, but he was this… beautiful boy who always took my hand and wanted me around.” 

She paused as her eyes misted over. “People were always scared of me while I was growing up. Kids never wanted to play with me, adults would always say thinks like I was unnatural. But Felix… he always smiled and held my hand. He talked my ear off about every little thing, and he wanted me to show him everything I knew. It was different when I became a professor, but I can’t forget the beautiful boy that made me feel… well feel.”

Yuri had stopped moving his hands against her shoulders at some point, and she was worried she might have said too much. She turned to apologize, but found that Yuri looked oddly contemplative. “I had a friend like that,” Yuri muttered as he looked up at her, “Slightly different. People mostly looked at me like I was trash.” He sneered the word, his features twisting into something as sharp and deadly as he was, “I did any and everything to make any bit of gold I could take home to my mother so she wouldn’t have to work so hard.”

He took a deep breath and she shifted back to loop her arm with his as he relaxed. “I was offered a… terrible job. But we were desperate. My mother was sick, she hadn’t been able to work in weeks, and it was nothing I hadn’t done before. I had to go and pretend to be someone I wasn’t, and while I was, I met this odd girl.” He chuckled softly and shook his head. 

“She was absolutely hopeless, but she looked at me like… like the sun rose and set because of me. She looked at me like I was important, like I meant something. We became friends rather quickly, and we had good times together. But… I had a job to do.” His softened features shifted into something angry until he shook it away. “I failed, and I never went to see her again.”

“Who was she? Have you ever tried to find her?” Byleth asked, genuinely curious who had the ability to make Yuri’s features soften like that.

“That’s not important,” Yuri responded in a cool tone, seeming to transition back into something more aloof, “I’m just saying I understand who Felix is for you now. He’s the person who showed you you didn’t have to be what other people thought you were your whole life. He’s important to you, and you are important to him. I’m sure you guys will make up soon.” 

“Emotions are so confusing,” she grumbled, “and it’s awful not knowing what you are feeling.”

“Welcome to being like every other person, friend. Being human sucks… Feelings suck. That’s why I avoid them every chance I get,” Yuri chuckled in that breathy way she noticed he does when he’s being pessimistic. 

“Now…” his tone shifted to a purr, “I told Balthus I’m here for the night. I think we’ve had enough sharing time for the evening…” She rolled her eyes playfully as he leaned closer to kiss her.

  
_Everything was on fire, and the smoke in the air made her eyes water and caused her lungs to burn with each breath she took. She was surrounded by burning carriages and massacred bodies, but she tried not to let it distract her. There were bodies of Knights of Seiros, as well as Imperial, Alliance, and Kingdom soldiers. All people who had died, because she failed._

_The cries of the dying rang in her ears, as those that were not dead yet began to crawl toward her. They cried out for help, cried out for mercy, cried out for their goddess, but she had to keep running. They grasped at her ankles, grabbed at her arms, and she pulled away time and time again as she fought to keep running. Her grip on her sword became weaker with fatigue, but she pulled at the last of her energy, knowing she could not falter here._

_She halted as her sword caught on something. She turned and saw Solon staring up at her with his pale disfigured face, the Sword of the Creator lodged in his chest. He chuckled, causing blood to bubble from his mouth and trickle down his chin. “You are the worst of the beasts,” he sneered with a look of disgust, “I have underestimated you… but this is not the end. Thales will carry out our mission, somehow… you’ll watch your world burn, Fell Star!”_

_She kicked him off her sword with a cry that split the air as more of a roar. She sensed magic building in the air, and she turned to see the mage from the day her father died, the same mage that blew her off the cliff. THALES. He was smiling maliciously as dark energy formed in his hands. She charged with another rage-filled roar, but as the ball of dark magic was launched toward her, she was pushed to the side. She landed with a cry of pain as her left shoulder screamed in protest at the impact, but she forgot the pain as soon as she raised her head._

_“FELIX!!!”_

_The swordsman was struck by the magic, flying backwards toward the crumbling edge of the cliff. She scrambled to her feet, willing her legs to carry her faster. He stared at her, eyes wide with terror, and tried to reach for her. She screamed in horror, the sound ripping at the inside of her chest and throat, as the ground crumbled beneath his feet. As he fell, he screamed, “BYLETH!!”_

_She ran toward the edge of the cliff as fast as she could, jumping off as warmth spread through her limbs. The warmth felt like a power she had simply forgotten, the rush of wind in her ears oddly pleasant as her limbs grew and changed. She tucked her golden wings close to her body, diving as quickly as she could toward the screaming Felix below her. She caught him in her front talons, spread her powerful wings and glided just above the trees until she found a small clearing she could safely drop him in._

_Warmth spread through her again as her wings and talons changed back to her human state. A large smile split her face as she ran toward Felix, who was surrounded by her friends. “Felix,” she cried in relief, “you’re alright.”_

_“Don’t touch me!” he screamed as he stepped back, his eyes still wide with terror, “What the hell ARE YOU?!”_

_“…What? It’s me, Fe. It’s Byleth.” She stepped toward Sylvain, who had stepped in front of Felix protectively as he held out the Lance of Ruin, pointing it directly at her chest._

_“I won’t let you touch him,” Sylvain growled, his caramel eyes narrowed and dangerous. He had never looked at her with such fury… such fear. She had seen fear in his eyes before, but never like this. Something in her broke as she realized this was because he was afraid of her._

_“What? Syl? I’m not going to…” she stammered, confusion and hurt clashing painfully in her chest._

_“They are no longer important now, dearest one,” Rhea’s voice cooed somewhere behind her. She whipped around and saw Rhea, but in warrior’s garb with a golden headdress that spread like small golden wings from her head. It all looked so familiar, but Byleth had trouble placing it as Rhea stepped forward, drawing a jagged sword and brandishing it toward her. A ray of sunlight shone against the Shield of Seiros on her arm. “You are mine. My light… my…”_

_“NO!” She shouted, her eyes filling with tears. “I’m not yours! I’m Byleth! I’m ME!”_

_“You are so much more than just Byleth,” Rhea narrowed her eyes and stepped forward, “You have always been mine, and now you will be for eternity!”_

She sat up, her chest heaving and sweat covering her skin. She put a hand to her chest, like she could slow a heartbeat that wasn’t there. “That must have been quite some nightmare,” Yuri whispered, and she startled, scrambling to the side. She had forgotten that he had fallen asleep in the bed with her. In the light of the very early morning she could just make out the furrow in his brow as his lips pursed in concern. “Are you okay?”

The image of Rhea in that familiar warrior’s garb flashed before her again, and she scrambled out of the bed. She walked over and fell to her knees in front of the chest that they had pulled out of the Holy Tomb. She opened it, and the Shield of Seiros seemed to glow as she reached a trembling hand toward it. 

Yuri hesitantly called, “Byleth?” 

_She touched the Shield of Seiros, and the world around her faded away. She was surrounded by fighting, the familiar sounds of war and death grated against her ears. Rain was falling, causing the dirt beneath her feet to become slippery with mud._

_A pillar of light fell from the sky, landing in front of her and creating a wave of fire that burnt the soldiers around her to ashes. Something else fell from the sky. No… it was someone. A man with silver hair and yellow eyes landed with a grunt, then looked up at her with a sneer. He slowly stood and pulled the Sword of the Creator from the ground, causing the flames to dissipate. Knights in silver armor charged the man with a battle cry. He wielded the Sword of the Creator expertly, cutting them all down, one by one._

_As the sun began to rise, Nemesis –for that had to be the man before her—turned. She followed his gaze, and turned to see Rhea standing on the other edge of the battlefield. Nemesis unfurled the Sword of the Creator, and pierced the very earth, causing a shockwave of rock and debris that killed the soldiers between himself and Rhea._

_Rhea watched it all, her face a mask of determination, and brandished her sword in challenge. They traded blows, inhuman speed and strength evident in every move. Nemesis batted Rhea away, but she charged again with a cry of fury. They locked swords, glaring at each other with pure hatred._

_Nemesis unfurled the Sword of the Creator again, whipping it toward Rhea, but she expertly dodged. On the next swing of the whip, she snagged it on her sword and ripped the ancient sword from Nemesis’ hands. She expertly knocked him to the muddied earth and pulled a dagger from a sheath on her thigh, pointing it at his throat._

_“Tell me Nemesis,” she growled with a look of pure unadulterated fury, “do you recall the Red Canyon?” Yellow eyes widened in realization, just before the gleaming dagger was driven into his chest. “You’ll die for that!” Rhea raggedly screamed. “Die! Die! Die!” Again and again the dagger was driven into Nemesis’ heart, until he moved no more. “You took… EVERYTHING that I loved!” she cried as her breathing became ragged with emotion._

_Byleth’s eyes filled with tears as an overwhelming feeling of loss rocked her to her very core. Cries of victory rang out around her, but she barely heard them as Rhea crawled along the bloody, muddy ground toward the Sword of the Creator. She cradled it to her cheek as she whispered, “He’s gone now, Mother…”_

Her cheeks were wet when she blinked open her eyes to see Yuri peering down at her. “You’ve REALLY got to warn me before you do shit like that,” he joked in a tone that failed to cover his nervousness.

She sat up and rubbed her temples, trying and failing to ease the pounding in her head. Yuri put his hands over hers and she sighed in relief as a Heal spell flowed through her, easing some of the pain. “I’m assuming you just had another one of your vision things…” he suggested in a hesitant tone. When she nodded slowly with a heavy swallow, he asked, “What did you see?”

“Rhea… she’s older than she looks,” she answered as a lingering wave of loss echoed through her chest.

He chuckled awkwardly and asked, “How old are we talking here?”

She whispered, “About a millennia or so old, give or take…” she looked up into thoroughly confused lavender eyes and added, “She used to be called Seiros. I just watched her kill Nemesis.” 

“There’s… no way…” Yuri mumbled as he put a hand to his forehead.

She wasn’t sure how to respond. She did know one thing, though. When his eyes raised to meet hers, she firmly said, “I need to go to Zanado.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There's a bit of humor to help cleanse your palate of the misery from the last chapter. What did you guys think of that dream? What is going to happen when Byleth goes to Zanado? 
> 
> You won't find out for a while. Sorry. Next chapter we're going to check in with our boys and get some MAJOR FELIX CHARACTER DEVELOPMENT! *claps hands excitedly* See you all then.
> 
> Random note: My Byleth is far less breasty and much more muscular than canon in my head. Just a little... I don't know. I'm just throwing it out there.
> 
> https://mobile.twitter.com/fishuuuu/status/1183140634904973312/photo/1
> 
> Literally me when ya’ll leave comments. Freaking love you all. Last chapters feedback was *chef’s kiss*


	16. Breaking the Habit

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Chapter title inspired by Breaking the Habit by Linkin Park
> 
> (Do I think Felix would totally be that guy with the Meteora album saved to his phone for whenever he was pissed off at his dad? Hell yeah. Can't convince me otherwise.)
> 
> FELIX CHARACTER GROWTH BITCHES!

~Felix~

  
He woke up at dawn, peeking his head from the bedroll as Sylvain climbed out to stoke their fire. Freezing temperatures made it impossible to camp without it. They had been taking shifts for sleep, one of them keeping watch from their bedroll while the other tried to get some rest. There were too many dangers on the road now with deserters, bandits, and Imperial scouts. It had been thoroughly exhausting traveling like this, but they would arrive at his childhood home in a few hours, and Felix couldn’t help thinking he wouldn’t mind staying on the road.

Sylvain nodded to him as he sat up, not saying anything as he worked on the fire. Things between them had been a bit strained. They talked very little as they rode, and at night they were both too exhausted to do any interacting past making sure the other ate before they slept. He wondered whether the distance between them was due to his request for time to think, or his treatment of Byleth that had finally made her give up on him.

That particular fact felt like a knife in his gut, twisting a little more every time he thought it—which at this point was about two or three times a minute. The anger and hurt when she had yelled at him, the defeat in her eyes when she told him to leave her alone, the tear trailing down her cheek…

He had never meant to push her away completely. Ever since she had returned, he had kept her at arm’s length—well perhaps just outside arm’s length—trying to distance himself from the guilt he felt every time he saw her, the fear he felt every time he pondered the possibility of losing her again. He’d yelled, he’d pulled away every time she got close, he’d basically told her that his life was none of her business.

Honestly… what was he expecting to happen?

There was a small voice in the back of his mind that continuously begged him to tell her everything, that pleaded that if he would just open up to her, perhaps she would _see_ , perhaps she would _realize_ … But he wasn’t sure even that would work now. Besides, she was back at the monastery while he was here, on the mission that she had assigned as his commander. He wouldn’t be able to do anything to attempt to make things right until he got back.

Not that she should forgive him. She was thrown into the position of commander in this rebellion—in this whole goddess damned war. While he should have been by her side supporting her through her new role, through her twisted visions, and scary realizations—instead he was pushing her away.

He was pulled from his depressing musings by a hand on his shoulder. Sylvain handed him a ration of dried meat that he had packed for their journey while his eyebrows knitted in concern. “We can sit and eat if you want,” Sylvain suggested in a hesitant tone, “It’d be easy to kill some time if you—”

“I’ll be fine,” he said in the easiest tone he could muster while being wound up and worried like he currently was. It came out a bit sharp, but Sylvain nodded in understanding—for who would understand the position he was in better than Sylvain? Who else would know what it felt like to approach a home that filled you with unease? Who else would understand what it felt like to upset Byleth? To have said or done something that warranted being outside her good graces? Though… to his knowledge Sylvain had never fucked up enough to make her cry and beg him to leave her alone—and bit into a piece of jerky. Honey eyes scanned their surroundings as they quickly ate, and then they saddled up.

“Lord Felix,” a servant greeted them at the gate with a soft smile and the bow of his head, “It is good to see you have returned.”

“Thank you,” he nodded, “Would you have someone ask my father and mother to meet us in the private sitting room,” he paused and then added a softer, “please?” Sylvain gave him a curious look, but he ignored it in favor of walking his horse to the stables and grabbing his saddle bags.

“Would you like time to freshen up before you meet with them, sir?” the man asked as he waved others over to help with their bags.

“No, it’s urgent so we’ll head there now. Would you also have Sylvain’s normal room prepared, please?”

“Uh—yes, of course, sir. We’ll have it prepared right away.” The man scurried off with one last look over his shoulder, Felix assumed to give the orders to the maids.

Sylvain walked beside him in silence until they entered a stretch of hallway where they were finally alone. He quietly asked, “Urgent? And why the sitting room? Are you okay?”

“I just want to get everything out of the way now,” he snapped, “There’s no reason to push it off until later.” He paused and considered it before turning and asking in a softer tone, “Did you want to get cleaned up first? You can go and rest if you are tired. You don’t have to stay if you don’t want to.”

“No,” Sylvain assured with a smile that looked more sincere than the one he had plastered on in the courtyard a moment ago, “I’m alright. If you want me there, I’m there.”

“Okay,” he sighed in relief and stopped in front of the door to the sitting room. His mind drifted back to the day that he brought Byleth here, the day she held him as he told her about Glenn. He gritted his teeth and pushed the door open.

His eyes fell on the portrait and he took a moment to look up at his brother. 

_“He was handsome,”_ Byleth’s voice echoed from his memory. _“Well… you look a lot alike. But I like your eyes more. They hold so much more… fire. Does that make sense?”_

He still remembered what she said after he was done sniveling into her shoulder. She held him and whispered, _“Thank you for telling me, Fe. I like it when you let me in like this.”_ He hadn’t let her in since she’d been back, instead he’d pushed and pushed. 

Sylvain rested a hand on his shoulder and he startled, whirling around to face him. “Are you okay?”

He nodded, clearing his throat as he glanced at the portrait once more. “I brought Byleth in here when she was here last. Remember the trip we took to help your father in Gautier, and then ended up routing bandits in Fraldarius as well?” Sylvain nodded in recognition and threaded the backs of his fingers lightly through Felix’s. A touch of comfort? Solidarity, perhaps?

“I told her about Glenn, about how I was sad she never got to meet him. But now I just realized… she never got to meet him, but she had to watch him die… And I _yelled_ at her about it.” He turned to face Sylvain, who had been looking at the portrait until he turned to face Felix fully. “I just… can’t believe that I…”

His mother’s cry of, “Felix!” entered the room before she did. Sylvain quickly took his hand away and took a big step back as she ran forward to pull him into an embrace. She pulled back, cupping both sides of his face in a way that only she was allowed. “We were worried when we didn’t hear from you. Are you alright? Where is Bernadetta? Is she safe?”

“Everyone is fine, mother,” he answered in a stiff tone as he pulled her hands off his cheeks, “I’ll tell you more once the old man comes. I’d like to avoid saying everything twice.”

She pulled him into another embrace, one that he returned more readily, and when she pulled back she asked, “Can I ask why I’m here? And why the sitting room? I assumed you and your father would discuss things in his study.”

“Gloriana,” Sylvain greeted in his cheery tone, making her flash a smile as she turned around, “How are you? Might I say, you look lovely as ever.”

“It’s my mom, you fool,” he grumbled with no true bite. He knew Sylvain was trying to take her attention away so she would stop asking questions, and he appreciated it immensely.

“And your mother is lovely,” Sylvain insisted with that too charming smile of his, “She hasn’t aged a day since we were children.”

“Now, I know that was empty flattery,” his mother cooed, “but I appreciate it all the same.” She pulled Sylvain into a hug and gave him the same once over she had given Felix. “Did you two get into any trouble while you were away?”

“Loads of it,” Sylvain swore with mock solemnity, “but we had fun while doing it. Didn’t we, Fe?” Felix clicked his tongue in reply, but when the corner of his mouth ticked up the slightest bit, Sylvain’s sunshine smile shone just a bit brighter. It was the same line Sylvain always spewed when they came home from an afternoon exploring, climbing trees, playing knights and dreaming about the day when they would fight for real. They had been foolish… but they had been happy. So very happy.

“You two,” his mother fake scolded with a light smack to Sylvain’s chest plate, “What am I to do with you?” 

“I’m sure you’ll treat them as you always have,” his father’s low voice echoed from the doorway, “with far too much coddling.” He smiled at his wife who huffed as she waved her hand dismissively.

“Did I coddle you two?” she asked in a pleasant tone, placing a hand on Sylvain’s cheek as he smiled down at her.

“No ma’am,” Sylvain chirped, then with a sliver of something more sincere he added, “The best days of my childhood were spent here with the Fraldarius family.”

His mother’s smile became sad as she nodded and got up on her tip toes to peck a kiss to Sylvain’s cheek. “And there will be more good days spent here when this awful war ends, I hope.”

Sylvain wistfully sighed, “I hope so, too.” 

A heavy silence filled the room for a moment as everyone seemed to get lost in solemn thoughts. His father broke the silence with a clearing of his throat. “I’m glad to see you are both back safely, but I’m most eager to know what you found at the monastery—and where the other children are.”

“We’re hardly children,” he scoffed with a roll of his eyes.

“Of course, forgive me,” his father responded with a sly smirk, “Though the question remains.”

“Have a seat,” he ordered with a wave of his hand, “there is much to tell you.” His father and mother exchanged a glance before walking over and sitting in a lounger that faced Glenn’s portrait. The irony of the fact that Glenn stood over him as he talked was not lost on him. Sylvain smiled at him with a nod of his head, like he was encouraging him or something. Though, now that he considered it, perhaps he needed encouraging.

“The boar prince is alive,” he sharply began, making his parents startle as his father immediately got to his feet. He held up a hand and said, “Sit down. There’s more.” His father looked about ready to burst at the seams, like he might run off to the monastery at this very minute to see his long-lost son.

Felix pushed away the thought before it could pull up any more bitterness that would potentially spew from his mouth. “I say this with all of the sincerity I can muster,” he insisted, “he is no longer Dimitri. If there is anything Dimitri about him, it has long since been buried under layers of beastliness.”

His father’s features became cross, and he opened his mouth, seemingly to object. However, he was cut off by Sylvain’s solemn, “It’s true.” His father’s head whipped toward Sylvain and the redhead nodded with a sorrowful look. “He’s different. He’s been wandering Fodlan, massacring entire battalions of Imperial soldiers for five years. He talks to the dead near constantly, is hostile toward others that he used to hold dear, and won’t obey commands in battle—putting himself and those around him at risk.”

“Commands?” his father asked with a raised eyebrow. He turned back to Felix for explanation, and he took a deep breath for courage.

“Byleth is also alive,” he muttered. His mother took in a sharp breath and pressed a hand to her mouth, as his father’s face split with a smile that Felix hadn’t seen in years. “She was sleeping for five years, recovering from a fatal injury as part of the goddess’ blessing,” he gritted out, “at least, that’s the best explanation we have. She didn’t age, didn’t change in the slightest. The fall of the monastery feels like weeks ago for her, not years.”

“My son—" his father chirped in a jubilant tone.

“She’s been appointed as the acting archbishop,” he sharply continued, not wishing to discuss Byleth with his father of all people, “And the Knights of Seiros have rallied to her at the monastery. She plans on putting an end to this war, and she’s miraculously decided to aid the boar prince in his reckless mission for vengeance.” He finished with a bitter tone, seemingly incapable of giving this report without being cross.

Sylvain stood and moved to his side. He put a light hand on his elbow and further explained, “We’ve been sent to formally request aid from the Kingdom Rebellion. Byleth asked us to come and speak with you, my father, and Count Galatea, personally. Any forces or resources that can be spared would be greatly appreciated as we move to end this war. The Knights of Seiros, under Byleth’s command, are the best option we have for the future of the Kingdom of Faerghus.”

“I agree whole-heartedly,” his father beamed as he stood up again, “Let us send—”

“There’s something else I want to say to you both,” Felix interrupted. Sylvain looked at him in question as his father stalled where he stood. “Can I… have a minute of your time… before you become too busy with this mess?” He was stammering as he balled his hands into fists to keep them from trembling. He knew what he wanted to do… it was the doing it part that was hard.

“What is it, my heart?” his mother asked with a note of concern. 

He gritted his teeth, clenched his eyes shut, and took a deep breath. When he opened his eyes again, he met his father’s light blue ones, so similar to Glenn’s. “I resent you,” he brusquely began, “for the things you said when Glenn died.” 

Watching his mother’s features twist with sorrow as his father’s expression shuttered should have been heartbreaking, but he was far too busy trying to corral the clumsy words on his tongue. “Glenn was my brother, my hero,” he sharply continued, “And the fact that you would explain his death away by saying something as foolish as ‘he died like a true knight’ is something that I’ll never be able to forget.”

His father sorrowfully whispered, “My son—"

He raised a hand and barked, “Let me finish,” he lowered his hand and in a pleading tone added, “please.” His father nodded, but his eyes were wary as he took his wife’s trembling hand in his own. Felix willed his tone to remain even as he explained, “I’ve always felt that when both of you looked at me, you only saw Glenn. I know you are parents who lost a son—and I sincerely hope I’ll never have to go through the hell you both went through—but I lost my brother that day. I know you miss him terribly, but I can’t be him… I won’t be him. I’m me, Felix Hugo Fraldarius. There is no one else.”

Both of his parents looked down at the ground, and his chest began to ache.

“And another thing,” he quickly continued, the words spewing from his mouth with force now, “I refuse to believe that Glenn died because he was a ‘true knight’ or a ‘shield to the royal family’. I refuse to believe that he died over some sick sense of honor.” He clenched his hands into fists so hard his nails were biting into his skin. “I believe Glenn lived and died for what he believed in, and that’s what I’m going to do.”

“And what do you believe in?” his father asked in a tearful voice, finally raising his eyes to look at him.

“I believe in Byleth. I believe in ending this war. I believe in changing Faerghus—changing Fodlan—into a place where people don’t lose their sons, daughters, husbands, wives, brothers, sisters, because of a forced sense of honor and duty.”

His father opened his mouth to say something, but he interrupted again. “Some of the people I care for most have struggled with their fathers. Sylvain’s is an asshole that only cares about him churning out an heir,” he growled as he gestured to his friend beside him, “Ingrid’s father, while slightly nicer, is not much better in that regard. Byleth held hers as he died, and she had to watch as he was murdered in front of her eyes. We were sent on a mission to kill Ashe’s adopted father because he started a foolish rebellion. Annette’s father abandoned her because of a destructive sense of duty and honor,” he cut off his rant with a cry of frustration. Talking about all of this was not helping the level of his anger, but he had a point. He just needed to get there. 

Sylvain lightly squeezed where his hand was still rested on the inside of his elbow, and he reached up to place a hand on Sylvain’s much larger one as he focused back on his father. Using the touch as a tether, a comfort, he muttered, “So, if the worst problem I have with you is that we disagree on a few things,” his voice croaked as his throat tightened with emotion, “it would be foolish—and selfish—of me to not even attempt to try and understand you when you’re alive and well.” He took a deep breath through his nose and whispered in a wavering voice, “You’re my father. I’m sorry that I’ve been the one to keep pushing you away. I’ll try to do better in the future.”

His father’s face was split with surprise, and his mother’s cheeks were wet from crying. He looked away, the vulnerability of the moment rapidly becoming too much for him, and fled the room. His body seemed to move of its own accord, carrying him toward his room as his heart beat frantically in his chest. It was beating so fast and so hard he thought it might burst right through his rib cage, or perhaps stop altogether. He distantly thought he might be dying, that he might lay down dead after finally releasing all of the feelings that had plagued him for the last nine years.

Hopefully Byleth would come to his funeral. Hopefully Sylvain would forgive him for breaking their promise. Hopefully his parents wouldn’t think he hated them when he died.

He finally reached his room, and startled when Sylvain pushed in behind him, closing and locking the door once they were inside. He had been so trapped within his own frantic mind that he hadn’t noticed that Sylvain ran out behind him, though he supposed that shouldn’t have been a surprise with how loyal and caring Sylvain was as a person. He threw his arms around the redhead, desperately clutching at his shoulders as he tried to slow his breathing.

“What do you need? What do you want me to do?” Sylvain whispered in his ear as he held him.

“Just… just… hold me,” he gritted out through clenched, his jaw too tight to even fully speak the words. Sylvain nodded and pulled him tighter, but the edges of his armor were poking against him. He tried to use trembling fingers to get the redhead’s armor off, something that should have been an easy task, but he failed miserably. His traitorous hands weren’t following his brain’s instructions. Sylvain lightly moved his hands away and began to do it himself, his honey eyes never leaving his face in a way that made him feel terribly insecure, but weirdly safe at the same time.

After what seemed like a lifetime in Felix’s panicked brain, Sylvain’s armor fell to the floor. Felix rushed forward to grasp at his shirt, putting his forehead against Sylvain’s broad chest, but Sylvain lightly pushed him back with a cooed, “One more second, Fe.” He kept his hands fisted in Sylvain’s shirt as Sylvain unfastened his coat and light armor, taking off everything until he was in his softer underclothes, and carefully corralled him toward the bed.

They crawled under the covers and he immediately hid his face in Sylvain’s chest, the panic and vulnerability of what he had just done washing over him in terrifying waves. Sylvain threaded their limbs together, keeping contact as he made sure they were as close as possible. 

Finally, after what felt like several minutes of trying to calm his too fast heartbeat, the panic began to ebb. However, fatigue rapidly followed. His limbs felt like he had just fought, or trained for several hours. His mind was cloudy, only focusing on the comforting sensation of Sylvain’s limbs pressed against his own. Soon, his eyelids drooped closed as his breathing became even, and he drifted off to sleep.

  
His mind slowly transitioned into waking and he blinked open his eyes to his room. He looked around in confusion for a moment, until he suddenly remembered what had happened. He sat up quickly and fumbled around the bed, quickly realizing that Sylvain wasn’t beside him anymore. His breathing became shallow again as he tucked his head in between his knees. 

Why had he done that? How foolish could he be? Sylvain must think he’s crazy now. And what were his parents thinking right now? Would that even count as an apology? He wanted to make things right. He wanted things to be different. He didn’t want to continue pushing people away, but by trying to apologize he had only yelled AGAIN. 

The door opened and he quickly raised his head to see Sylvain walking back in, now in fresh clothes. His chest tightened as he watched warily for signs of discomfort or judgement, but he was somewhat relieved when he found none. Sylvain shut and locked the door, slowly walking back over to stand at the side of the bed. “Can I lay down with you again?” he asked in a soft tone.

Felix pulled the blankets back, eyes glaring down at the blanket in front of him, and Sylvain took the invitation, crawling in beside him as he laid back down. Sylvain nudged him away, and he furrowed his brow in confusion. “Turn over,” Sylvain instructed. He complied with a look of confusion, but the feeling quickly melted away as Sylvain began rubbing his shoulders. He groaned in appreciation and burrowed into the pillows as he shut his eyes again.

“Is this okay?” Sylvain asked, “You looked tense and I thought—”

His “don’t you dare stop” was muffled by the pillows, but Sylvain chuckled softly and continued what he was doing. Every part of his body felt tense and sore, and he idly wondered if it was from the quick pace they had set on their horses, or whatever meltdown he had just experienced.

After a few silent minutes Sylvain whispered, “I’m so proud of you, Fe.” 

He slowly turned toward the redhead and burrowed into his chest again, twisting his fingers in Sylvain’s green button-up shirt. “All I did was yell,” he tearfully whispered back, “I was trying to make it better, not worse.”

“You did, though,” Sylvain insisted as he moved him back until they met eyes, “You did make it better. You stood up for yourself, told them what the problem was, and you told them you wanted to fix it. I…” Sylvain trailed off with a chuckle and shook his head, “You were so brave, and so honest, and… I don’t think I’ve ever loved you more.”

Felix lifted his head and moved forward, kissing Sylvain roughly. Sylvain returned it without hesitation, threading his fingers into his hair that must have come loose while he was sleeping. Perhaps Sylvain had taken it out for him. 

When he pulled back to breathe, he rested his forehead against Sylvain’s. “I’m going to try and be better…” he whispered, “I’ll keep screwing up and saying the wrong thing… but I… I can’t keep pushing people away, or I’ll have no one left and it’ll be my own damned fault." After a moment's hesitation he weakly added, "I don’t want to push you away.”

Sylvain kissed him softly, and he returned it, savoring the taste and feel of him. When they parted again, he slowly added, “I can’t be like the boar… neglecting those around me because of what happened in Duscur. I can’t keep resenting my father because of what he said about Glenn. We _both_ have to try and fix things.”

“You will, baby,” Sylvain cooed in a way that he would normally find irritating but he strangely didn’t at the moment, “I’m so proud of you. I love you so much.”

“I…” the words caught on his tongue as he stared at Sylvain’s features. His eyes mapped out his freckles, the dimple in his cheek as he smiled his sunshine smile, the scar on his chin, his honey eyes that had some of the laughter back in them. Did Sylvain know how stunning he was? How kind and caring he could be? Felix knew he didn’t… and it was a damned shame. He felt so unfairly loved. Sylvain deserved every bit of affection he had to give, even if what he had could never possibly be enough. 

“You don’t have to…" Sylvain whispered softly with a shake of his head. 

He bent his head until he could tuck it beneath Sylvain’s chin and whispered, “I do... too… you know…” Sylvain’s breath caught, and he could feel it as his head rested against the redhead’s throat. “I may not say it… but I want to be better at showing it.”

“I couldn’t ask for anything more.” Sylvain’s sigh was some mixture of relief and affection as he cupped the back of his head, holding him close. There was a seed of doubt in the back of Felix’s mind that wondered if that was completely true, but he lifted his head and kissed Sylvain fervently, willing the doubt away. 

Sylvain groaned into their kiss as Felix rolled until he was straddling his hips, his hair creating an inky blueish-black curtain around their faces. Felix trailed kisses down his jaw to his neck as Sylvain threw his head back and clamped his lips shut, trying not to make any noise. “Fe…” he softly sighed, the sigh hitching as Felix grazed his pulse point with his teeth, “Fe… we probably…” he threw a hand over the redhead’s mouth as he pulled at his collar and sucked a mark into the flesh just below his collarbone. Sylvain’s groan was muffled by his hand as he arched his back ever so slightly.

Sylvain pulled his hand away and panted, “Your parents, Fe… they sent me to check on you…” Felix lifted his head to look at the thoroughly mussed Sylvain staring down his nose at him with honey rimmed, blown out pupils. It was satisfying, it was arousing, it was everything he wanted Sylvain to feel even if he couldn’t make himself say three fucking words. He pushed up with a resigned sigh and sat tall on Sylvain’s torso. “I just… you didn’t want to say anything before…”

“No…” he whispered, “…you’re right.” He placed his hands on each side of Sylvain’s head and pressed a chaste kiss to the corner of his lips. “I’m still gross from traveling, anyway.”

“Beautiful,” Sylvain breathed as he tucked a bit of hair behind Felix’s ear, “You’re always so beautiful, and strong, and—” 

Felix leaned down and bit lightly into his shoulder, making him yelp in surprise. “Stop talking,” he grumbled, rolling off of Sylvain to try and hide his blush, “or you’ll make fools of the both of us.” Sylvain laughed in amusement and rolled after him, trying to catch him as he scrambled off the bed.

“Your mom said dinner will be ready soon,” Sylvain casually reported as he rolled to lean on one elbow, watching him move toward his bags with an unabashed stare.

He whirled around and incredulously asked, “Dinner?”

“You slept a long time,” Sylvain frowned slightly and moved to sit up, “Are you feeling better now? I was kind of worried.”

The heat from earlier was quickly replaced by a cold wash of shame and… was that guilt? It kind of felt like guilt. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have—”

“I’m worried because you were upset,” Sylvain firmly stated, rolling out of bed to take his hands, “You don’t have anything to be sorry for.”

“But that was…” it felt like his shame was crawling through his skin as he took his hands back and dropped his eyes to the ground, “that was not… I shouldn’t have…”

“Hey,” Sylvain tilted his chin up until he was looking at him, “I only brought it up to make sure you’re okay now. There’s nothing to be embarrassed about, I promise.” Honey eyes seemed to search his soul for a moment before Sylvain bent down and kissed him tenderly on the forehead. “Get cleaned up, and I’ll go stall your mom for a bit. Your father wants to meet with both of us after dinner if you’re up for it, okay?”

Sylvain turned away to walk toward the door, but Felix quickly lunged and grabbed his hand. When the redhead turned to look at him, he murmured, “Thank you… for everything.” Sylvain’s sunshine smile was back and nearly blinding. Paired with a look that held unrestrained affection, it made it slightly hard for Felix to breathe. It wasn’t like the panic. It was a flip in his stomach, a warmth in his chest, and a strong desire to hold him close and never leave this room again.

Who the hell was he? Trying to repair things with his parents, thinking all of these sappy thoughts…

“I’ll see you when you get cleaned up,” Sylvain chuckled. He squeezed his hand before pulling away, and walked toward the door, sending an obnoxious wink his way before the door shut between them.

He walked over to the bed and sat down, placing his hands over his burning cheeks as he stared at the floor, feeling completely gobsmacked. He needed to get ahold of himself before dinner, which was suddenly feeling nearly impossible. It seemed like pouring his feelings out to his parents earlier had left him a little raw, a little vulnerable, and apparently far more likely to talk about more feelings. 

He scoffed at himself and ran his hands through his dirty and tangled hair. He stood and walked into the small washroom just off his room to get cleaned up. It’d be best not to leave Sylvain stranded with his parents any longer than he already had been.

Dinner went relatively well, if not a bit awkwardly. At least, it was awkward for him. Sylvain was his usual casual self, flawlessly moving the conversation along with his usual grace. _Damn that silver tongue of his, always knowing what to say._ His parents lapped up his stories from their return to the monastery. 

He told them about their success over the Imperial vanguard, their visit to the Holy Tomb—he left out the more sensitive details, such as Byleth’s vision, but his parents were awed all the same—and the addition of the Ashen Wolves to their army. His parents had both attended the Academy, and were both equally shocked by the fact that there was a network of tunnels under the monastery.

“And how is Byleth handling everything?” his mother asked with a look of open concern, “I can’t imagine what it must feel like to wake up five years in the future to adult students and a war torn Fodlan. Not to mention being thrust into the role of Archbishop after spending the entirety of her life as a wandering mercenary.” She sighed heavily and pressed a hand to her chest. “The poor dear.”

It was the first time Sylvain’s cheery façade had cracked since their arrival. Felix could see it in the strain at the corners of his eye and the twitch at the corner of his mouth, like he had to pull at his smile to keep it in place. “She’s struggling,” he replied in an even tone, “She’s done incredibly well leading everyone, but I think it’s hard for her to reconcile everything in her mind. Things are just…” he paused, looking down at his fingers as they twisted a fork, “… different.” A forlorn expression flickered across his features before he could plaster the smile back on, and Felix glared down at his plate.

“To think,” his father mused from his mother’s side, “that the Ashen Demon, the girl who saved Sylvain all those years ago, would be where she is now…” he chuckled softly and sighed, “It’s all rather extraordinary.”

“ _She’s_ extraordinary,” Felix gritted out through clenched teeth, still glaring down at his plate, “She always has been.”

The room became silent, suddenly filled with a palpable tension. Sylvain reached over under the table, placing a hand on his knee, and he squeezed it lightly before letting go. His father cleared his throat, and after a deep breath Felix looked up at him. “Perhaps we should move to my study,” his father suggested, “We can have a drink and discuss your plan. Then we can get you both off to bed for a good night’s rest. I’m sure it is sorely needed after the pace you set to get here.”

“Thank you,” Sylvain chimed as he moved to give his hand one last squeeze, “I think we’re both a little tired after everything.”

“I’ve already sent a group of messengers to Count Galatea,” his father reported as he poured each of them a glass of whiskey in his study, “I’ve asked him to come as soon as he can.”

“Good,” Sylvain hummed, “I’ll go and speak with my father. I need to go to Gautier to prepare my battalion and pick up some supplies that the others left behind. We’ll bring a wagon down as soon as we have everything ready.”

“I’ll go with you,” Felix immediately interjected, feeling worried at the prospect of Sylvain leaving him alone in Fraldarius, but also worried about leaving Sylvain to deal with his father.

“That would be great, Fe,” Sylvain agreed with a warm smile. He turned to address Rodrigue again, “I’ve already given Gloriana a letter from Bernadetta requesting supplies, so we can transport it all down as soon as we are ready to depart for the monastery.”

“You should be fine to leave as soon as we decide on a plan of when and where to transport the troops and supplies,” his father mused, “You can leave the old men to discuss the specifics. It’d be best if you weren’t waylaid here too long, not with how precarious your position at the monastery is at the moment.”

“I was thinking something similar,” Sylvain hummed, “I’d prefer to go back as soon as possible in case of a follow up attack from the emperor. We’ll leave for Gautier early tomorrow, and we should be able to make it back here in about two days’ time, depending on how long it takes to get everything prepared.”

His father nodded as he took a sip of his drink. “I doubt the Count will be able to arrive much sooner than that, anyway.” He sighed as he tipped his head back. Felix noticed the softest curl of his lips and the contentment openly shining in his eyes as he muttered, “This is the day where everything changes. Can you feel it? The goddess has blessed us, and we must not waste what we’ve been given.”

He had not told his father the extent of Byleth’s connection with Sothis, only informing him that she had been blessed in a short letter. After returning without her, his father had blessedly not asked for any more details. He couldn’t possibly know how on the mark he was.

“Could I have a moment to speak with you before you retire, my son?” light blue eyes implored as his father set down his glass. Sylvain sipped from his, honey eyes watching him cautiously as he downed the remainder of his in one go.

“Fine,” he let out with the wet gasp from the burn of the drink. Sylvain quickly finished his, nodded to both of them, and walked out of the room.

  
His father started, “I’d like to tell you that I’m—”

“Please,” he begged, his eyes on the floor, “I know I said I wanted to…” the words caught in his throat. Finally, he managed to grumble, “I don’t know if I can talk about that right now. It’s too much.”

“I understand,” his father murmured, “I only wish to say that I am grateful to you, my son.” He raised his head, trying and failing to mask his surprise. “I know that I let you down that day,” his father’s features became downcast as he circled his glass on the desk, “but I will endeavor to do better in the future, just as you said.”

The tightness in his throat was back, emotion stirred by the amount of understanding he was receiving from the people around him. “Okay,” he croaked, his voice wavering even with the one word.

“There’s something else I’d like to speak with you about, as well. I would like to be the one to escort the troops when the time comes,” his father explained, raising his eyes to finally meet his, “but only if that is alright with you.”

“Why? Fraldarius—”

“I will summon my brother,” his father interjected kindly with a soft smile, “He can manage things here while I am away.” He sighed and sat further back in his chair, his shoulders relaxing from their normal “noble” posture. “To be straightforward, there are many reasons I wish to accompany the troops. I would like to check on His Highness,” he raised a placating hand as Felix scowled, “even though I do believe what you have told me. I have a promise I must keep.”

Before Felix could spew out something about how ridiculous all of that was and risk the tremulous sense of peace he had worked so hard for this morning, his father quickly added, “I would also like a chance to greet Byleth, seeing as it has been quite some time since I have seen her. And I would like to pay my respects to Jeralt, if I have the chance to make it to the monastery.”

Felix looked down at the ground between his feet, his fist clenched into the fabric of the sleeves of his coat. “Right…” he muttered, “I’m sure she’d like that.”

His father was silent for a moment before he hummed softly in the back of his throat. “Forgive me for prying, but it seems that you aren’t as thrilled as I assumed you would be.” He sharply looked up at his father, who raised his hands defensively. “I know what Byleth means to you, Felix. I have always known. I expected you to be joyful, but all I can see is sadness.” Blue eyes searched his features before hesitantly asking, “What troubles you?”

He dropped his eyes back to the floor, contemplating what he wanted to say. His initial reaction was a scathing remark about how it wasn’t any of his fucking business and storming away, but that reaction had already harmed enough, hadn’t it?

He hesitantly began, “Do you remember what you said to me the day you gave me the Aegis Shield?”

His father hummed contemplatively before responding, “That you could use it to protect those you hold dear,” a pause, “and that you shouldn’t push the people that understand and care for you.”

“I’ve failed on both of those fronts,” he mumbled as he moved to standing, “and I have no one to blame but myself.”

“She is _alive_ , my son,” his father pleaded, a hint of confusion in the knotting of his brow, “I don’t understand.”

“Just,” the word was spit in a venomous reflex before he clenched his eyes shut and hissed, “I can’t do this. Not right now. Goodnight, father.” He ignored his father’s call of goodnight as he quickly exited the room. 

He opened the door to his room to find Sylvain standing at the window, staring out into the darkness outside. He turned, a slight smile on his face, which faded as soon as he took in what was probably a scowl across his features. _When isn’t there a scowl on my face?_

A few quick strides and Sylvain was standing in front of him, reaching but not touching, like he was waiting for permission. “What did he want?”

Felix kept the space between them, crossing his arms as he grumbled, “He wants to accompany the troops when they travel to meet ours.”

“Okay,” Sylvain drew out the word, “I don’t… understand…”

“He wants to see the boar,” Felix spat, making a diluted look of understanding pass over Sylvain’s features, “and apparently he wants to see Byleth.”

“Oh...” Sylvain breathed, and then pursed his lips as he dropped his hands back to his sides, seemingly giving up on any contact between them at the moment.

“You’re worried about her,” he grumbled, walking over to sit on the edge of his bed and take off his boots so he didn’t have to look at Sylvain.

“Well… yeah,” Sylvain’s voice was cautious from the same place Felix left him, like he didn’t know how Felix was going to react. It’s a fair feeling, especially after everything that has happened to them in the last two and a half weeks.

_Holy Seiros, it’s only been two and a half weeks._

“Does that…” Sylvain hesitantly started, and then swallowed so hard Felix could hear it as he moved to place his boots near the door, “does that upset you? That I’m worried about By?”

Does it upset him? It’s something he hasn’t been able to think about yet, what with the emotional torrent that had been pummeling him since he first saw Byleth leap into Sylvain’s arms that day they reunited. Thinking about it now stirs something possessive and ugly in his chest, but its quickly muzzled when another part of his brain reminds him that he cares about Byleth. Hell, he’s worried about her too. Almost every minute of the last several days he’s been worried.

How could he not be? What with the realization that his childhood friend, one of the people he respected and cared for more than almost anyone else in the world came back from the dead, got fake kidnapped by a lavender-haired asshole that she was now courting, and formed an entire strategy around the fact that she was the bait for the Imperial army. 

Not to mention the fact that Byleth was rapidly becoming something—no, not something… _someone_ —that seemed too powerful for this world. There was always the issue of the rare Crest, the fact that all of the Relics responded to her touch, and her connection with the goddess. But now they were dealing with—no, not they, she—she was dealing with visions, dreams, scary information that there was no way she should know. That on top of the fact that she was still trying to wrap her brain around the fact that she had the ability to survive being stabbed through by the Sword of the Creator by taking a five-year nap was all a little overwhelming.

Seriously… how in the fuck was he not supposed to be worried?

“No,” he snapped as he ran a hand down his face, “I’m worried all the damn time.”

“I know you are, Fe,” Sylvain softly said, taking a few steps closer, “Is that why you keep—”

He bitterly barked, “Fucking everything up?” He glared over at Sylvain, who shrugged as he sheepishly looked off to the side. “It’s… it’s all so messed up,” he groaned, ripping the hair tie from his hair as he pulled at his scalp, “I feel guilty, and scared out of my damned mind, and angry, and… it’s all just too much!”

“Okay...” Sylvain softly cooed as he walked over to stand in front of him. Felix leaned forward to plant his forehead against Sylvain’s stomach with a huff. “I think you’ve had enough for today, hmmm?” Sylvain hummed, lightly trailing his fingers through his hair, “Today has been stressful enough.”

“But you’re worried about it,” he whispered, reaching up to fist a hand in his shirt, “and I don’t want you to be worried.”

“We’ll talk about this when you haven’t had a such a long day,” Sylvain assured him, “I can wait.” 

“Stay with me?” he asked, voice barely above a whisper.

Sylvain got down on his knees and stared up at Felix with that same look of unbridled affection from earlier as he whispered, “Always.”

He clicked his tongue and grumbled, “You should really stop saying shit like that.”

“Why on earth would I stop?” Sylvain cooed exaggeratedly, “Every time I say things like that, you get all flustered, and blushing Felix just might be my favorite Felix.”

Felix placed a hand over his face, pushing him backwards as Sylvain giggled obnoxiously. “I’m not the only one who gets flustered,” he grunted, “so you better watch yourself.”

“I have no idea what you mean,” Sylvain chirped as he stood back up. He pulled his shirt over his head with what HAD to be excessive movements, before working on slipping off his boots and his trousers. Amber eyes trailed over broad and muscled shoulders developed over years of wielding a lance, muscular thighs from fighting on horseback, various scars from battles fought and survived… 

If Felix wasn’t blushing before, he definitely was now.

It was still so… odd. He and Sylvain had grown up together, had bathed together, had done everything together. But this wasn’t stolen glances in the baths, it wasn’t falling asleep together as children, naked as the day they were born, it was… different. Good different. Hell, GREAT different.

However, the smug look on Sylvain’s face as he looked down at him was completely unacceptable.  


Felix slowly worked on the buttons on his coat as he casually said, “I’m sure all of your playthings told you how stunning you are, didn’t they?” The bravado in Sylvain’s stance immediately faltered, replaced by something almost fearful. Fearing he might have screwed up already, Felix quickly shucked off his coat and draped it over a chair just behind Sylvain before pushing him down on his back on the bed.

“Did they tell you how kind you are?” he asked as he raised an inquisitive eyebrow, “Did they tell you how supportive you can be?”

“Ummm…” Sylvain heavily swallowed, and Felix watched the movement of his Adam's apple before flicking his eyes back up to Sylvain’s face.

Felix pulled his turtleneck over his head and ran his hands through his hair before shaking it out so it fell down his shoulders and back. Sylvain watched with hungry eyes, not moving from his place on the bed. Felix could see the twitch of his fingers, like he wanted to reach out but didn’t dare risk it.

Felix’s pants were added to the pile on the floor before he crawled across Sylvain, lightly smacking away his hands when he tried to reach up and touch him. “You are stunning,” he hummed in his ear, “but if that’s all they see, they’re damned fools.” 

He sat back so he could appreciate hungry eyes and flushed cheeks. Maybe blushing Sylvain was his favorite, too. “They didn’t appreciate your damned silver tongue,” he kissed the corner of Sylvain’s mouth, “your leadership skills,” the other corner of his mouth, “your stupidly big heart,” his drew out the next kiss, swallowing Sylvain’s needy whine as Felix batted his hands away again.

He kissed a trail to Sylvain’s ear and whispered, “They might not have appreciated the real you… but I do.” Sylvain tensed underneath him, and when he pulled back the redhead was staring up at him with wide eyes and his mouth agape. Unease trickled into his chest— _Had that been too much? Did I ruin it by being too sappy?_ —and he began to crawl off of Sylvain as he awkwardly whispered, “Was that—”

He was surprised when Sylvain swept his leg out from under him and pinned him on his back in one smooth movement. Sylvain kissed him hungrily for several moments before pulling back and panting, “I love you.” He felt his mouth turn up in a smile, but any response he would have said was quickly lost as Sylvain kissed him into a nonsensical puddle.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I couldn't wait to post it. I'm too excited and I got way too many comments about how excited ya'll were. I hope this hits the way I wanted it to. It's not a cure all, Felix is still going to struggle with the habits he's built up for the last nine years, but the boy is TRYING. HALLE-FREAKING-LUJAH!
> 
> Also... I just needed Sylvain to have some love at the end there... even if it was Felix blend. Soft Felix is what Sylvain and I both crave.


	17. Higher Love

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Chapter title inspired by the song Higher Love by James Vincent McMorrow (I love that version)
> 
> Byleth goes to Zanado.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so so so so so so so so so so sorry! This chapter is... UGH. I knew what I wanted to do with this chapter, but there were so many decisions to make in regards to the chapter that affect the rest of the story and the pressure was like... insane for some reason. I'm sorry that y'all had to wait so long, and I'm sorry that it's so short, but this is what you get until I have the next chapter done. Sorry!

~Byleth~

She couldn’t go back to sleep, not after all that she had seen, after all that she had discovered. Lady Rhea, the Archbishop of the Church of Seiros, was actually Seiros herself. 

_What the fuck?_

Which brought up even more questions. Had she been leading the church the whole time? How had no one noticed? Who builds an entire church around themselves? What was Rhea’s relationship with Sothis? What happened in the Red Canyon? 

She sat on the floor for a moment, eyes staring unseeing at the Shield of Seiros before her as she massaged her throbbing temples. There was an undeniable pull in her chest—a tether that was pulling her toward Zanado. It felt so similar to when they were in the Holy Tomb, so there was really only one explanation. All of this had to be coming from Sothis. But why the green-haired goddess who used to dwell in her brain wouldn’t just talk to her like she had when she woke up in the river, she had no idea. She missed her friend’s voice, and she suddenly felt an overwhelming sense of loneliness, even with Yuri sitting on the bed a few feet away.

She wished she could talk to Sothis about all of these visions, of course, because Sothis was obviously trying to warn her of something in the Holy Tomb, even if it was cut off when Sylvain pulled her off of the throne. But really, she just missed her friend. She wished she could talk to her about waking up after being asleep for five whole years, about the guilt she felt for abandoning her students/friends, but also about how all of her former students/friends had changed and it felt like she had been left behind. She wished she could talk to Sothis about missing her father, about missing HER. She wished she had someone who understood her feelings like Sothis always did, because honestly…? All of these feelings felt like they were about to rip her apart.

She could still FEEL the overwhelming wave of loss that struck her as she watched Seiros kill Nemesis. It brought back that feeling from her father’s death, the one that often existed in the corners of her mind and plagued her whenever she thought about her father. She could still feel the physical ache in her chest, and she couldn’t help feeling a seed of sympathy for Rhea.

Rhea had a lot to answer to when they eventually found her, and Byleth was by no means fond of her. The fact that the woman only viewed her as a vessel for the Goddess, and the fact that she had done something to her as an infant—and had quite possibly done something to her mother during childbirth—were things she couldn’t ignore. But that feeling, that aching in her chest where her heart should beat, it told her there was something she was missing. It told her there was something she wasn’t understanding when it came to Rhea. And she had a feeling that going to Zanado was going to help her figure it out.

“Who was I working with this whole time… a fucking Saint?” Yuri laughed humorlessly, and though she couldn’t see his face she imagined he might look just as flabbergasted as she probably did right now.

She didn’t answer, and to be quite honest, she barely heard him. Her gaze was still fixed on the Crest of Seiros emblem that was on the shield in front of her. “Are you… okay?” Yuri hesitantly asked from his place on the bed. Another wash of loneliness struck her, and she looked down at the floor.

“Yeah,” she responded as evenly as she could, “sometimes the visions are… overwhelming. This one was…” she cleared her throat as a lump began to form and her eyes began to mist over, “this one was a lot.”

She heard the sound of shuffling behind her, and then felt Yuri’s tentative hand on her shoulder. She turned to look at him over her shoulder and gave him her best attempt at a smile. He watched with an awkward sort of concern, seemingly unsure of how to handle this. Or maybe he wasn't sure how to handle her. He wrapped her in a light hug from behind, and she clasped a hand on his forearm and tried to appreciate the comfort.

She suddenly missed Sylvain and Felix. 

She shook the distracting feeling away and slowly stood to walk over to her wardrobe. She pulled out the armor that Yuri had some of the armorers in Abyss work on. They had refinished the white and gold breastplate, replacing the white with black, and adding a light collar. They had also fashioned a cloak similar to her old one, but all black with armored shoulders. She found that she liked the black and gold more—it felt more like her. She still wore the circlet that Seteth had given her, as well as the gold greaves. Black pants with a gold knee-support pauldron and her heeled boots that she had always fought in finished the look.

When she turned, Yuri had redressed as well and was waiting for her. He leaned his lithe frame against the door and asked, “Off to Zanado?”

As he moved to the side to allow her to exit, she replied, “I have to make a stop first.”

She was relatively surprised by how quickly Seteth came to the door when she knocked. It was not quite dawn, and she knew how the man slaved away at his desk until the early hours of the morning. She had chided him over a few times already, but he always said he was used to such hours. 

He opened the door looking thoroughly disheveled, but became alert as soon as he saw her. “What’s wrong? Did the scouts find something? Why wasn’t I informed?” A million questions immediately flew out of the green-haired advisor’s mouth and she held up a hand in effort to silence him.

“We are not under attack,” she softly assured, “I’m sorry to wake you. I wanted to inform you that I need to take the morning away from the monastery. There’s something I must do.” Even now the pull within her was almost distracting. It was like extreme hunger or thirst, a feeling that wasn’t easy to ignore.

“Is everything alright?” Seteth asked with a furrow in his brow.

“Yes, there is… somewhere I need to go.” She kept her answer vague, but it seemed it didn’t help keep Seteth in the dark.

His emerald eyes analyzed her for a moment before he asked, “Have you had another vision?” When she didn’t answer right away, he hesitantly added, “You look… emotional. It is similar to how you looked after that day in my office and after the Holy Tomb.” 

“I did,” she curtly answered, crossing her arms behind her back.

There was a moment’s pause before he asked, “What did you see?” 

She looked him over silently for a moment, and he began to fidget slightly under her gaze. “Nothing you don’t already know, I’m sure.” His jaw tensed minutely as he stared right back at her. It felt like an odd test of wills—or maybe they both realized this was dangerous territory. She had been relying heavily on Seteth since she woke up, but she knew he knew more than he was saying. She couldn’t shake the feeling that he was watching her struggle without doing anything to help, and it still hurt that he wouldn’t just tell her whatever he knew.

Though, it seemed Sothis was slowly feeding her information anyway.

“How old are you, Seteth?” she asked in a cool tone. It came out with a bit more edge than intended, and she didn’t miss the way his expression immediately shuttered as he folded his hands behind his back, matching her stance.

“I don’t know why that is—”

She sharply interrupted, “Because I’m trying to decide if you are more like my father…” a pause as Seteth’s jaw tightened further, “or Seiros.” 

“Sir Jeralt? Saint Seiros? I’m not sure what you are implying, Byleth,” Seteth replied with an air of forced calm.

“I’m sure you don’t,” she scoffed, “I need to speak with Flayn.” Seteth’s emerald eyes began to burn with that familiar overprotective rage. “I need to ask her if she would like to accompany me to Zanado.”

“Zanado?” Seteth’s voice strained before he sternly cleared his throat. “Zanado is sacred land, Byleth. Special permission is required to—”

“I give myself special permission,” she shrugged. Goddess knows she didn’t bother to get it last time. Though, the fact that Seteth was so triggered by this place made her even more curious as to what Sothis was potentially going to show her.

“I would like to accompany you, Professor!” Flayn’s voice chirped from behind Seteth. The fact that she was listening to the conversation was completely unsurprising. “If you would give me just a moment.”

“Flayn,” Seteth hissed. He huffed an agitated breath through his nose when she paid him no mind. Byleth could hear running footsteps, she presumed toward the young girl’s room so she could dress for the journey.

Byleth assured, “I’m not expecting a fight, Seteth. I’m just being cautious. I thought Flayn would like to spend time with the rest of the group I’m taking.”

“Why?” he asked with a note of something almost pleading, “Why are you going to Zanado?” 

She analyzed him carefully, all while batting away a feeling of concern at the wariness in Seteth’s eyes. “The same reason I needed to sit on the throne in the Holy Tomb. I think Sothis is trying to show me something again.”

He shook his head, his wavy hair shifting ever so slightly at the motion. “I don’t understand. You had a vision and now you need to go to Zanado to have another?”

“I think they are related,” she explained, peeking over his shoulder to try and see if Flayn was coming yet, “The Red Canyon was mentioned in the vision, and now I feel this undeniable need to go.” She put a hand over her unbeating heart—like she could touch the feeling itself. 

“I will be accompanying you, as well,” Seteth firmly said, immediately shutting the door before she could object. She puffed a breath through her lips, making her bangs flop on her forehead. She had an inkling that this was going to be an interesting trip.

As they rode toward Zanado, she couldn’t help regretting the fact that Sylvain and Felix weren’t with her. It felt wrong to be doing this without them for some reason. She sighed and physically shook the feeling away, causing Linhardt to stir slightly where he was sleeping against her back. The tired mage had insisted on coming with her when she said she was going to Zanado—as had Yuri and Balthus. She ended up roping Ingrid, Ashe, Annette, Mercedes, and Dorothea into their little trip as well. 

Surprisingly, Dimitri had also insisted on coming. She had gone to the cathedral to inform Ingrid—who kept a near constant watch over her Prince, alongside Gilbert and herself—and when he overheard that they were going to Zanado, he surprised both women by insisting that he be there as well. She thought she saw a hint of the old Dimitri as he said it, and she wondered if he was determined to be there because of what happened the last time she had gone.

They left Gilbert in charge of things while they were away, though Shamir had just returned with a group of scouts and said there were no signs of any Imperial forces approaching. Luckily Zanado was just outside the monastery boundary, so she figured their little adventure wouldn’t take too long.

The closer they got to the deserted canyon, the more that incessant tugging in her chest seemed to pull. And as they entered the mouth of the canyon, it was like a roaring flame inside her chest. Seteth ordered everyone to form a perimeter around the area as the three of them walked toward the center of the canyon. Linhardt made it known that he was disappointed about the fact that Seteth would not allow him to wander over to the stone ruins with them. He gave Byleth a look that told her he was going to be asking her a million questions when they got back to the monastery, and honestly, she wasn’t looking forward to it.

Seteth led her and Flayn toward what looked like the ruins of a raised stone pavilion, though the roof and columns of the structure had long since crumbled. She thought she saw worn carvings in the stone, but she couldn’t get a close enough look to confirm her suspicions. Seteth was watching her closely as she looked around, seeming to wait for some big reaction. Honestly, she was waiting for something similar. However, even though the need to be here was still strong, nothing she was seeing was providing any flashes or visions. All she had was that same sense of familiarity from the first time she had been here. Honestly, it felt kind of like the monastery did for her now. It almost felt like… home.

She turned to Seteth and asked, “What is this place? Why do you need special permission to come here?”

Seteth crossed his arms and glanced around. She could see something conflicted in his gaze as she stepped closer to him. “It is said that Zanado was a temporary haven for the goddess and her children, long, long ago.”

“When I came here the first time,” Seteth and Flayn’s eyes followed her as she walked slightly toward the pavilion, “I felt this overwhelming sense of familiarity. Sothis told me that she had no memory of coming here, but there was… emotion… tied to this place.”

She glanced back at Seteth and continued, “She said that along with the familiarity she felt pain and love, though I don’t completely understand the feeling even now.”

“She had no memory of this place?” Seteth asked, his voice laced with something she couldn’t identify.

“She had no memory of anything. The only memories she had were her name, the fact that she was called the Beginning, and my murky memories. We didn’t even know the name of the goddess until the night of Remire.” Seteth and Flayn’s features both became darker at the mention of that night, which Byleth still considered one of the worst nights of her life.

“Can I ask…” Seteth hesitantly started, “how many times the goddess spoke with you?”

She considered for a while, how much she would like to tell Seteth. He still had information he was keeping from her, but perhaps if she told him more, he would trust her more. “I don’t remember much of my childhood, but I do remember dreaming of her. She was always sleeping on a stone throne, just like the one in the Holy Tomb. The night I met and saved the house leaders in Remire was the first time she woke up and truly spoke to me. After that she was with me always…” she paused as a twinge of loss rang in her chest, “…until the darkness of Zaharas, when we became one.”

Seteth’s eyes widened as his lips parted in something like awe, or perhaps fear. “The goddess… she was with you through all of the events of that year at the Academy?”

“She heard and saw everything I did,” Byleth nodded, “she slept often, but she had access to my memories so she always knew what I did.”

“She’s the one who taught you the song you sang me in the infirmary the night you saved me, is she not?” Flayn chirped with a bright smile across her face. 

Byleth nodded and put a hand over her heart at the memory. “She is. She was always so fascinated by you both. She said she felt a bond of some sort, and thought that perhaps we had met prior to my coming to the monastery.” Flayn looked overjoyed by her words, but Seteth’s features became contemplative as he put a hand to his chin and stared down at the ground.

“I’m not sure why you two and this place were the only things that stirred any memories, though it's something we were always curious about.” She turned around in a slow circle, her eyes seeking out her students and friends where they had set out the perimeter. Ingrid was in the sky on her pegasus, Dimitri was pacing with his lance in his hand, Yuri was near Balthus, and the others were all carefully watching their surroundings.

As she took in her surroundings, she couldn’t fight the feeling that what she needed to know was right in front of her—like all of the knowledge she needed was behind a closed door and all she needed to do was unlock it. “You lived here,” she murmured under her breath, “this was your home.” She walked toward the crumbling pavilion and placed one foot on the steps. “Why am I here? What did you want me to know, Sothis?”

She finished walking up the steps and closed her eyes, searching her mind for the place that Sothis used to dwell—like the young goddess would be there again. She released a heavy breath and opened her eyes again, before inhaling sharply in surprise.

Images and feelings began pouring into her all at once at an overwhelming pace. She glanced around the area, watching as faded images danced before her. A woman with long emerald green hair, sitting before a circle of green-haired children speaking a language that Byleth couldn’t understand. Her mouth dropped open in shock when she saw a green-haired man walking beside what looked like a younger version of Seteth. She saw Rhea standing alone, watching the skies with a peaceful smile gracing her features. There was a man with a bow lying beside him, whittling a block of wood while a small child watched in rapt attention. Various beasts of countless shapes and sizes walking among other Nabateans in human forms. All of the images took shape and then flickered away as an overwhelming amount of emotions made her legs begin to quiver beneath her. 

“Indech… Macuil… Luin… Areadbhar… Rafail… Dromi…Thyrsus…Vajra…Mushti…Blutgang…” so many names spilled from her lips like a prayer as she dropped to her knees. Seteth and Flayn both sprinted up the steps as she planted her hands on the ground before her, her limbs trembling too much to hold her up any longer. These were Sothis’ children. These were the people that she loved, Byleth could feel it. However, that love that she felt was tinged with loss and sorrow.

She brokenly whispered, “What happened, Sothis? What happened to all of your children?”

A sorrowful cry split the air as image after image of Sothis’ children dying flashed before her. All of them cut down as Nemesis and his army marched through with no mercy. They mercilessly killed men, women, and children—painting the walls of their home, their haven, with their own blood. The wail seemed to go on forever, until she realized it was her sorrow that filled the air. Tears streamed from her eyes, forming sorrowful constellations onto the stone below her.

“They’re gone… they’re all gone… your children…” a lump built in her throat, making it hard to speak as she folded into herself. “They’re gone…” That is what Nemesis took from Seiros. The day she struck Nemesis down, she was avenging her brothers’ and sisters’ horrifying slaughter.

Suddenly, the feeling of home from before was gone, replaced by an overwhelming sense of wrong—a sense of something missing. Sothis was trying to tell her what it was, but she couldn’t figure out what she was trying to say. Byleth searched within the depths of herself, and slowly—like a spark before it roars into a burning flame—power built within her chest, flowing outward through her veins until she felt it flowing through ever inch of her. 

She steadily unfolded herself, and noticed that she was no longer trembling as she moved to standing. Flayn was at her side immediately, but her words fell on deaf ears as Byleth closed her eyes and focused on that power, that sense of wrong, that sense of something missing. 

_“What is missing, Sothis? What do you need me to do?”_

She saw herself—no… she saw Sothis—flying through the air. Everything below her was ravaged by fire and destruction, but as she tilted her powerful wings, she began to circle a mass of land untouched by the destruction. This land that Byleth stood on had once been blessed by Sothis herself. It had been a refuge from the destruction brought by those that were filled with greed, evil, and hate. However, the blessing had long since faded as Sothis slept.

Sothis began to sing her song, glancing to her children below her before flying outward over the destruction. “In times flow… see the glow… of flames ever burning bright…” the words to Sothis’ song sprang from her as the power within her increased. She continued to sing as the image of the destruction below Sothis faded away, replaced by life and abundance. She pictured the forests, the flora, the springs, the animals… She pictured the peace that Sothis had so desired. That same desire filled her as she sang, strong and steady. The power within her limbs felt like warmth and safety as it channeled through her.

She sang until the power began to ebb, and the warmth within her began to recede. Fatigue unlike anything she had ever experienced replaced the warmth as she fell to the ground. 

“Byleth!” “Professor!” She blinked open her eyes to see Seteth and Flayn hovering over her, worry twisting their features. She smiled as the feeling of home—of right, of peace—returned. She felt a phantom touch along her skin, so similar to when she had sat in Sothis’ throne room after her father’s passing. She could feel Sothis’ overwhelming gratitude, though she wasn’t sure exactly what for. All she knew was that she had done it. She had fulfilled what Sothis needed her to do, and she knew they were going to be safer now.

She whispered, “We’re safe now.” And then with a relieved sigh, she fell asleep. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So you know that scene in Frozen 2 where she sees a bunch of her memories around her made out of snow and ice? I pictured this as something similar, but obviously not snow and ice. I hope that gives you an idea of what I was trying to portray. We'll discuss what happened a bit more in future chapters.


	18. And Gone For Now, Feels Alot Like Gone For Good (Happiness)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Chapter title inspired by Happiness by The Fray (My music has been a bit depressing lately. 2020, man.)
> 
> Sylvain and Felix finish up their task in the Kingdom, and arrive back to devastating news.

~Sylvain~

He woke up to the tickle of hair against his nose, but he couldn’t be too upset when he opened his eyes to take in Felix lying beside him. The swordsman must have recently shifted in his sleep, thus the hair in his face. The swordsman was now lying on his back, one of Sylvain’s hands lay on his toned stomach, loosely held in his own calloused hand, with his other arm sprawled above his head. Felix was a sprawler most of the time, he had been since they were kids, and he very rarely woke up tucked neatly to Sylvain’s chest as he had been when they fell asleep. He also hogged the blankets, but Sylvain couldn’t bring himself to care.

Good thing he was a warm sleeper, anyway.

Early morning light trickled below the curtains, and Sylvain had the thought that he should probably sneak back to his own room, but he pushed it away in favor of looking over the rare sight of a peaceful Felix. His lips were parted slightly so Sylvain could hear the faint sound of his breathing, and his eyelashes twitched on his cheekbones as he settled back into slumber. 

Sylvain propped himself up on an elbow to get a better look at his best friend turned lover, and couldn’t help the overwhelming happiness that welled within him. None of this felt real. The entire day yesterday had been so… strange. Good strange, but strange all the same. Felix confronting—but also apologizing to—his parents, the fact that he’d all but said he loved him back, Felix’s kind words as he pushed him back on the bed—

None of it felt real. It felt like a dream, and Sylvain really really REALLY didn’t want to wake up.

He’d known since he was a child that he would grow up and be forced into an arranged marriage with a woman who only saw him for his Crest and his name. He’d resigned himself to the fact that love wasn’t in the cards for him, and he’d had his fun in the Academy knowing that the clock was going to run out. The fact that someone—the fact that FELIX—loved him and wanted to be with him was just— None of it felt real.

He couldn’t help the overwhelming joy he felt as he thought about a future where he and Felix could be together. It would take work, and probably some sacrifices along the way, but if they could do it… if they could be together? Sylvain would do anything to make that happen. He would do ANYTHING to show Felix how much he meant to him.

He grinned like an idiot as he lightly traced his fingers near Felix’s collarbone, thrilling at the goosebumps his touch left behind. Felix made a sleepily annoyed grunting noise, but Sylvain didn’t miss the upward twitch at the side of the swordsman’s lips as his dark eyelashes fluttered slightly. Knowing Felix was awake, if only slightly, he continued to trace his fingers down his swordsman’s torso. He explored the expanse of Felix’s bare skin, circling the marks he’d left behind last night, until he reached Felix’s abdomen. His fingers stalled over the purple scar from the night of Remire, and as he traced the lines that protruded from where the dark magic had struck, his mind was filled with Byleth’s terror-filled features as she held a limp Felix in her arms.

He suddenly realized how terrifying the level of happiness he was feeling truly was. What if Felix changed his mind? What if he realized he could do so much better and left him? Goddess… what if something happened to him? They were in the middle of a war, a war that was arguably going to become more perilous the closer they got to Enbarr. What if Felix died? What if—

“What’s wrong?” Felix cupped his cheek, moving a thumb to wipe away a tear that was making its way down his cheek.

Goddess he was _CRYING._

“I’m sorry,” he chuckled as he rolled onto his back to try and escape amber eyes, “You’re just so beautiful, it’s enough to make a grown man cry.”

Felix huffed in annoyance, but rolled up onto his side to effectively switch their positions. He hovered over him and groused, “Your lines don’t work on me, you fool.”

He raised a teasing eyebrow as he cupped Felix’s cheek in his hand and pulled him down for a kiss. And BOY did he love the fact that he had the ability to kiss Felix until the ornery swordsman forgot his own name. He pulled away after a few heated moments and cooed, “Are you sure about that?” 

Felix stared down at him with that adorable kiss drunk face he sometimes makes for a moment, before he heavily cleared his throat. The flush of his cheeks climbed to the tip of his ear, barely visible where he had tucked some of his hair behind it. Sylvain decided not to give him time for an answer, hoping to avoid discussing it further. It took little to no coaxing before he was lying on top of Felix, pressing open mouthed kisses down his slender neck. He loved the fact that Felix wears high collars, because that means he has plenty of room to leave a plethora of marks that would tell the story of where he’s been. Part of him wished that Felix didn’t wear the high collars, just so everyone knew exactly where he’d been.

“Stop,” Felix half groaned and half moaned as he pushed him back, “I know what you’re doing!”

“I would hope so,” he crooned, a genuine smile pulling at his cheeks, “I wouldn’t be doing it if you didn’t.”

Felix cut him an unamused glare and in an expertly performed grappling move, that he would never bother to learn, pinned him to the mattress. “What’s wrong?” he asked more forcefully this time. Amber eyes held his concern, and Sylvain closed his with a heavy sigh.

Felix didn’t say anything, didn’t even move, as he kept his eyes closed. Realizing that he wasn’t going to get out of it, he opened them and moved to trace a finger over the scar that had sent his thoughts spiraling. Felix’s abdominal muscles clenched at the motion, but he didn’t bat his hand away. “I was thinking about the night of Remire,” he explained in a heavy tone.

Felix hummed in the back of his throat, something brewing in his gaze, and asked, “What part?” That was a fair question. That entire night was so filled with horrors that could pull such a reaction from anyone who had been there to witness it. Dimitri’s mental break, cutting down the mad townsfolk, the screams of those that had been unaffected…

“Byleth’s terror-filled scream of my name,” he brokenly whispered, still tracing the scar with his fingers, “and turning to see you limp in her arms.” Felix shifted uncomfortably from his seat on top of his torso, and he wondered what part of what he’d said that earned that reaction. Byleth was a touchy subject between them, a fact that tore his heart into pieces anytime he thought about it.

Felix half-heartedly grumbled, “She has an annoying habit of carrying me around when I’m unconscious, doesn’t she?” There was a joke about Felix wishing that she would do it when he was awake halfway off his tongue before he clamped his mouth shut, knowing it probably wouldn’t be well received.

He sighed, his eyes misting again as he whispered, “It was terrifying seeing you like that. And then the fever… you were crying in your sleep. It was the first time I’d seen you cry since we were kids. Seeing you that sick, worrying about you as much as By and I were…” He cupped Felix’s cheek and the swordsman leaned into the touch, furrowing his eyebrows in concern. “I can’t help thinking about how happy I am right now. I can’t help thinking about how happy I am with you… and how _terrifying_ that is.” He chuckled humorlessly and shook his head. “I just… never thought this was going to happen for me. Now that I have you, I can’t…” he cleared his throat, but couldn’t seem to continue.

Felix pressed his pointer finger between his eyebrows, and he relaxed his face with a wet sigh. Felix whispered, “Don’t think about that.” 

“I was trying not to,” he half-heartedly joked. 

Felix rolled his eyes and leaned down to kiss him in a way that was unfairly tender before whispering, “I’m not going anywhere, idiot. I have a promise to keep.” He wasn’t totally sure why Felix was acting this way, with these moments of tenderness and vulnerability that took his breath away. But he did have a sneaking suspicion it had something to do with whatever happened between Felix and Byleth. There was no point in thinking about that now, though. Especially not when he could reach up to thread his fingers into raven hair and tug, swallowing the groan it earned from his swordsman. 

  
The ride up to Gautier was freezing, but gratefully uneventful. He doubted Imperial troops would be able to stand attacking this far north, anyway. Western Faerghus didn’t get nearly as cold as Fraldarius and Gautier territories did, and sending in troops that were unaccustomed to this weather would be fruitless. He suspected that Edelgard and Cornelia knew this, judging by the slowing in the rate of attacks at the Fraldarius border that always happened around this time of year.

Dread crept into his chest as Gautier Manor appeared on the skyline. Felix sent him a few furtive glances the closer they got. He knew that his normal mask would be good for nothing with Felix so he didn’t even try. He didn’t turn on the normal façade until they were greeted at the gates and they rode through to hand off their horses to the stablehands.

“Lord Sylvain,” one of the servants that had been with his family ever since he could remember greeted, “it is good to see you.”

“Thank you. Could you inform my father that we need to speak with him?” 

“I believe the Margrave is in his study. I will inform him that you have arrived. Would you like to freshen up before you see him?”

“Yes,” he shivered as Felix followed him toward the main doors, “a warm bath is necessary before we do anything further.” He pulled the parchments from Ashe, Linhardt, and Annette from his inside pocket and handed them to the servant. “Will you also have a wagon prepared with these items from Linhardt, Ashe, and Annette’s rooms? We’ll most likely leave tomorrow morning.”

“Of course, sir.” He waved with his standard smile and pulled Felix into Gautier Manor.

  
He paced outside Felix’s room until the swordsman was ready. As soon as the door opened, he closed the distance between them and murmured, “My father is going to be…” he grimaced, his brain coming up with all of the possibilities for what his father would say once he knew Byleth was alive, “Please don’t listen to anything my father has to say about any of this.”

“That won’t be a problem,” Felix scoffed with a slight upturn of his lips.

“No,” he grabbed Felix’s arm as he insisted, “Don’t listen to anything he has to say about By.” Felix’s jaw clenched as his expression became stormy. The peace between them had been blissful, and he knew that this was going to put a wrench in things, but Felix had insisted on coming so he figured it was best to at least give him some form of warning. He had confessed to Felix that his father wanted him to marry Byleth a few years ago when they had been drinking for his birthday. He knew the swordsman knew about it, but his father had a way of always making things worse than he thought they would be.

An angry click of his tongue was the only answer Felix gave before he stormed off in the direction of the Margrave’s study, and Sylvain could only hope all three parties made it out of this interaction alive and with all of their limbs. His hopes weren’t high, though.

They were interrupted in their route toward his father by a run-in with his mother. He greeted her with a small smile as she ran up to pull him into a hug. Things had gotten a bit better between them since the day he arrived home after the Battle of Garreg Mach. She had held him as he sobbed for hours, and something had thawed between them as a result. He couldn’t say that he completely trusted her, or that their relationship was all he had wished for when he was a child, but he understood now that his mother had struggles of her own that made her who she was. She was never going to be as affectionate and involved as Lady Fraldarius, but she loved him and she was sorry for letting him down when he was a child. He supposed he would have to take that.

“Was it a good trip?” she asked as she reached out to clutch his hand. He could see Felix watching them from the corner of his eye, and his chest tightened as he wondered how this was going to go.

“It was,” he assured with a nod of his head, “We found His Highness and Byleth alive, and somewhat well. We couldn’t have asked for better news when it comes to ending this war.”

He wondered if he had ever seen his mother smile as widely as she did as she pulled him into an enthusiastic hug. “She’s alive,” she happily sighed, “I’m so happy for you, my son.”

“That’s…” he cut off with a clearing of his throat and after a quick pat on his mother’s back pulled away from the hug. “We can talk a bit more later, but for now Felix and I should go and speak with father. There is a lot to discuss.”

“Of course, of course,” she murmured with a small smile. She squeezed his hand and said, “I’m so happy for you, Sylvain.”

He swallowed heavily, emotions that he couldn’t take the time to acknowledge churning in his chest. “I’m happy she’s okay,” he noncommittally said, “Have dinner with Felix and I later?”

“I’d love to,” she nodded, “Now go see to your business.” She shooed them away, that soft smile still gracing her tired features. 

Felix wouldn’t meet his gaze as they walked toward his father’s study, and as much as he wanted to drag the swordsman away and make sure he was okay, he knew they had to get this over with. He knocked at the door to his father’s study and entered before Felix when his father called to enter. 

“You’re back,” his father began, setting the parchment that he was previously looking at aside and sitting back in his chair, “with good news, I take it?”

“Yes, father. We traveled to the monastery and found His Highness and Byleth alive,” he ignored the obvious shock on his father’s face and quickly continued, “We’ve been sent by Lord Rodrigue to take you down to Fraldarius. Byleth has been appointed acting archbishop,” an incredulous raising of his father’s eyebrows had his fists clenching at his sides as he continued, “and the Church of Seiros is requesting aid in putting an end to the war. They are requesting troops from the rebellion, and they are willing to help put His Highness back on the throne.”

“I’m sure they are,” his father mused with a pompous grin. “So, Byleth has survived after all these years, has she?”

“Yes,” he nodded and tried to keep his features as neutral as possible, “She was asleep the whole time, in order to recover from a fatal injury.” That’s what you’d call being stabbed through with the Sword of the Creator and falling off a cliff, right?

“Asleep?” the Margrave asked as he steepled his fingers on the desk.

“She thinks it is a part of the goddess’ blessing,” he evenly explained, “The fall of Garreg Mach feels like weeks ago for her, not years.”

“She never fails to be interesting, that one,” his father commented as the pompous grin on his face became predatory, “And a position as Archbishop of the Church of Seiros…” He chuckled as he sat back further in his chair. “Who knew the half-feral mercenary we had tied up in that very chair had that sort of potential?”

Felix looked about ready to lunge over the desk and kill the Margrave with his bare hands until Sylvain sent him a pleading look and he settled on a scathing glare instead. If his father saw Felix’s ire, he didn’t show it. If anything, he looked amused as he looked between them with a smirk curling his lips. “I will travel with you to Fraldarius tomorrow. House Gautier will be more than happy to provide any resources it can spare in the name of ending this awful war.”

“Thank you,” he evenly replied with a slight bow. He turned to leave, but was stopped by a call from his father.

“Hold. There is one other thing I would like to discuss with you. Please leave us, Felix.” Felix cast him a searching glance and he nodded minutely before turning back to his father. The click of the door after Felix left seemed to suck the air from the room as he tried to remain as impassive as possible.

“It would be best to cement a proposal as soon as possible,” his father pressured as he stood from his chair, “Others will attempt to win her hand as soon as word gets out. You have the advantage as her friend,” the way he smugly said “friend” had Sylvain’s jaw clenching as he tried to keep from screaming, “and we must take it.” 

He snidely retorted, “I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but we’re in the middle of a war. I hardly think now is the time to propose marriage, especially when she’s commanding an entire faction in this war.”

His father’s eyes narrowed as he rapped his fist harshly on the desk. “Then you would prefer to lose her to another suitor?”

An image of Yuri’s hands gliding over Byleth’s body came to mind unbidden and he had to fight through the wave of devastation that washed over him. He had already lost her to another, not that he had any sort of claim over her to begin with. It was foolish for him to focus on such a thing. “I’m not _losing her_ to anything,” he hissed, “I’ve just found her back from the dead. I’m enjoying the fact that the friend I’ve been mourning the last five years is, in fact, alive. Figures you’d find a way to ruin that.”

His father’s chuckle was patronizing as he walked around the desk to stand in front of him. “If you don’t take what you want, others will. I thought I had taught you better, my son.”

“She’s not an object to be taken,” he growled, “She’s my friend and she’ll be with whomever she wants.”

The smile on his father’s face was hauntingly fake as he replied, “That’s all well and good, as long as YOU understand that you will be getting married at the end of this war to an eligible suitor so that you may do your duty in producing a Crest-bearing heir. I figured you would want it to be someone you would enjoy spending your life with. Who better than her?”

“Believe me,” he bellowed, unable to restrain his anger any longer, “I know all about my fucking duty! That’s all you care about, isn’t it?!” He scoffed and ran a hand through his hair in frustration. “You know what? I don’t need this shit. I’ve got a fucking war to fight.” 

He could feel his father’s disapproving glare as he turned on his heel and stormed out of the study. He made a beeline for his room, but came to a halt when he found his mother nervously standing outside his door with a small, thin box in her hand. 

“What is it?” she asked with wide eyes.

“Nothing,” he grumbled as he fought to make himself calm down, “Did you need something? I was just going to get some rest before dinner. It was a long ride from Fraldarius.”

“I thought you might like this,” she said with a soft smile, “I’ll leave you to rest. See you at dinner.” She hesitantly placed the box into his hand and walked down the hallway with no further explanation.

He sighed and pushed open the door, freezing as his gaze landed on Felix sitting on the bed. Knowing the swordsman, he probably wasn’t even trying, but the way he sat on the bed—leaning his weight back on his arms, his thigh-high boot-clad legs spread just so, head cocked to the side with a pouting type of scowl on his lips—was so damn arousing it just wasn’t fair. How in the hell was he supposed to function when his best friend turned lover looked so damn good even while brooding?!

“How did it go?” Felix asked as he slowly turned his head to look at him.

“About as well as could be expected from him,” he replied with a hint of bite that he fought to pull back. Felix was the last person who deserved a blow up over the things his father had said. He threw the package on the bed as he pulled off his stiff jacket and began unbuttoning the top buttons of his shirt.

“What is this?” the swordsman asked as he picked up the package from his mother.

“I’m not sure. My mother gave it to me, just now. Wonder what she would have said if—” he cut off when Felix made a sound that was somewhere between a growl and an injured whine. He was perplexed by the odd sound coming from the swordsman, until he turned to see him staring at the contents of the open box in his hand.

Inside the velvet padded box was a silver necklace, with a blue silver-encrusted teardrop stone dangling from the delicate chain. He vaguely remembered his mother wearing it every so often when he was growing up. He couldn’t help thinking the color of the stone reminded him of the color Byleth’s eyes used to be. Judging by the look of consternation that twisted Felix’s features, the swordsman was probably thinking something similar. 

Amber eyes flew up to stare into his, and where Sylvain had expected anger or frustration, he only saw fear. Felix’s words from the night Byleth told them about her vision of the Tragedy of Duscur echoed through his mind. _“I wish you’d just fucking leave me alone if you’re going to leave anyway!”_

He walked over and snapped the box shut before throwing it onto the bed. Without a word his grabbed Felix’s face and kissed him fervently, but it only lasted a moment before Felix pushed him away. “This is going to be the rest of our lives, isn’t it?” the swordsman hollowly whispered as he stared at the box on the bed.

“Don’t,” he pleaded as he lifted Felix’s face so he would look at him, “I swore my life to you a long time ago. I’m not taking it back for anything. You hear me? I love you.”

“But—”

“But nothing. I’d go and buy a band right now so I could swear it to you again,” he vowed as he held amber eyes with his own. There was no doubt in his mind that if that was what Felix wanted, he would do it. Felix’s eyes widened an almost comical amount as the prettiest flush crept up his cheeks. He tried to pull away—probably so he could try to hide it—but Sylvain held him in place. He insisted, “I mean it, Fe.”

“You’re a damned fool, you know that?” the swordsman grumbled.

“I’ll always be your fool,” he retorted cheekily and leaned down to kiss Felix. He was relieved when Felix grabbed onto the front of his shirt and pulled him closer to prolong the kiss. When they pulled back for breath he whispered, “I know it’s going to be complicated, but we’ll figure it out, okay? We’ll win the war, come out of all of this alive, and then deal with our fathers.”

Felix sighed, a heavy thing that sounded like it bore the weight of the world, and shut his eyes. He opened his mouth like he might say something, but then clamped his mouth shut again. Without another word, he nodded slowly and stepped out of Sylvain’s embrace with a light squeeze of his hand. 

“Tell me.” Felix looked up at him and he prodded, “You want to say something. Say it.”

“I was…” Felix trailed off as he quickly looked away and awkwardly shuffled his feet, “Your mother’s reaction to Byleth being alive…” Felix went silent, and Sylvain pondered what he was trying to say, or what he was trying not to say.

“I… sort of broke down when I came back home,” he quietly confessed. “She held me while I… grieved Byleth’s death. It’s all sort of silly now.”

“You were pretending to be alright with me and the others,” Felix accused, his eyes narrowing the slightest bit.

“Byleth asked us to take care of the others, and I didn’t want to let her down.” Felix turned away, hiding his reaction to the statement. “Also… I was worried about you. You were so broken up about it, and you had cared for her so much longer than I had… so…”

“So, you pulled your self-sacrificing bullshit and tried to hide the fact that you were hurting,” Felix spat, his shoulders tense as he stayed facing the opposite way. “Just like you are right now.”

“I’m not hurting,” he argued, “I’m happy.”

When Felix whipped around, that wild look that always proceeded venomous words was in his amber eyes. He tensed as Felix closed the distance between them and hissed, “You’re telling me you have no feelings about Yuri fucking Byleth?”

He kept his voice as even as possible with the hurt and ugly feeling in his chest rearing its ugly head. “I wouldn’t say I don’t have feelings about it.”

“You aren’t angry that he gets to touch her and you don’t?” Felix taunted, “You aren’t angry that she’s falling in love with a rat from the underground when you’ve been standing around pining after her for years now?” 

He took a deep breath, trying to remind himself that Felix probably didn’t mean it. He was scared because both of his parents wanted him to marry Byleth. He was scared of being left behind, so he was lashing out. He repeated it in his mind over and over as he started to reply, “I wasn’t—”

“You were,” Felix growled, cutting off his denial with a finality in his tone that stung. The swordsman walked over to pick up the box, opening the lid so they were both staring at the necklace that lay within it. The edge left Felix’s voice as he cried, “You’re telling me you don’t want to run back to the monastery and give this to Byleth? You’re telling me that even though both of your parents would love nothing more than for you to win her heart, you would rather tie yourself to me? Me?! When you could try to have Byleth for the rest of your life?”

There it was. The hurt beneath the venom.

“None of that is worth losing you,” he whispered in answer. “I’m happy with you, and she’s happy with Yuri.” He ignored Felix’s derisive snort and added, “As long as the three of us are friends, none of it matters.”

It felt like Felix was giving him an ultimatum, him or Byleth. He didn’t want to make a decision of either or. If he was being honest, he longed for an option of both. He wanted things to be the way they were before the fall of Garreg Mach. He wanted them piled together on Byleth’s tiny bed like they had been after her transformation, or when she and Felix had held him after he found out about Miklan, or all three of them on the floor the night before the invasion. He knew he wouldn’t give up the times he had had with Felix, they were so special to him and he LOVED Felix. He loved him with every fiber of himself. He just… also loved Byleth with those same fibers. 

But none of that mattered now. He already knew she didn’t love him, and now she was with Yuri. There was no way he was going to break what he had with Felix by saying such things out loud and giving voice to the selfish desires of his heart.

He sighed as he tried to let Felix’s words roll off his back. Instead of giving in to the accusations and hurt that Felix was throwing, he softly coaxed, “Do you want to tell me what happened the night before we left Garreg Mach?”

Felix sat on the bed, flinging the box to the side as he growled, “I already told you…”

“All you said was that you found her with Yuri,” he retorted. “That’s hardly telling me why Byleth would send you away and ask you to leave her alone. Even with everything I’ve done to fuck things up with her, she’s never done that.” That earned a glare from the swordsman, but it was half-hearted and glistened with unshed tears that told him Felix didn’t really mean it. “If you tell me, we can figure out how to fix things with By so you can stop ruminating about it. Don’t try to tell me you aren’t, I know you.”

Felix looked to the side as he clutched the blanket underneath him in white knuckles. “I went to try and fix things,” he slowly started, “I didn’t like how she said she was “done”. I couldn’t think about what I wanted to do with you when I was worried that Byleth wouldn’t want…” he paused and then whispered so quietly he almost didn’t hear, “wouldn’t want to be my friend anymore.”

He stayed silent as Felix’s hands twisted in the thick blanket that covered his bed. After a few moments the swordsman finally continued, “She cracked the door to tell me to go away, but I pushed into the room because I thought she just… didn’t want to see me. Yuri was on the bed and my brain didn’t… I didn’t think she would…” Felix growled in frustration and put his hands over his face. Fury laced his tone as he ranted, “I blew up at Yuri. I asked him what he thought he was doing, and he was so… carefree about it. He said it was fun fucking her like it wasn’t BYLETH that he was…” 

“Wait…” he hesitantly interrupted as he went over to sit on the bed beside Felix, “he said it was fun?”

Felix furiously roared, “You fucking insatiable—"

“No no no!” he interrupted with raised hands, “What did By say it was? If they were just fucking for fun, then maybe she’s not with him with him. Maybe she was just… blowing off steam.” Their trip to the Rhodos Coast came to mind and a wave of nostalgia hit him. That had been one of the best days in recent memory, even if it had ended somewhat poorly.

“Blowing off steam?!” Felix screeched, his features red and angry.

“That’s what she calls fucking with no feelings. She told me that was what she used to do when she was a mercenary,” he explained, though it didn’t seem to be calming Felix down at all.

Felix growled, “So, you’re saying she thought fucking that rat would help her relax?! Why are you both so… UGH!” He punched the bed and let out a groan of frustration.

Suspicion crept into the back of him mind, and he didn’t stop himself from speaking it out loud. “I still don’t understand why you were yelling at Yuri,” Sylvain stated as Felix turned away, “Or why you’re upset that they fucked in the first place.”

“I don’t want to talk about this,” Felix growled as he quickly stood from the bed. The defensive crossing of his arms as he turned away all but confirmed his suspicions. 

“Are you… I don’t know… jealous? Are _you_ angry that he gets to touch her and you don’t? Are _you_ angry that she might be falling in love with a rat from the underground when you’ve been standing around pining after her for years now?” 

“Stop projecting your shit onto me!” Felix bellowed as he whipped around to face him. His face was flushed and his breathing heavy. 

Some feeling washed through him that he couldn’t quite identify. Perhaps it was one-part relief, one-part vindication. He almost chuckled but withstood the temptation as he countered, “Am I the one who’s projecting? Or are you?”

Felix’s narrowed eyes blew wide in something that could have been surprise or horror, as all of the color slowly drained from his face. The swordsman seemed to stare unseeing for several tense moments until he eventually clicked his tongue, turned on his heel, and stormed out of the room with a growled, “This is bullshit.”

Sylvain stood to follow, but when he heard the door slam down the hall, he thought better of it. Had he taken it too far? Perhaps Felix didn’t feel that way about Byleth, but… he didn’t see how that was possible. Felix was so possessive at the Academy, always grouching about the fact that Byleth didn’t spend more time with him, in his own Felix sort of way. He was always asking for more training, always using more excuses to spend time with her. He’d even participated in the White Heron Cup—which Sylvain couldn’t see him doing in a million years. The night they went out for drinks, Felix had been all over Byleth. His head on her shoulder and his hand on her thigh. Felix had ALWAYS had feelings for Byleth, even if he wouldn’t admit it.

Could that be why he had been acting the way he had since they had found her alive? Was it some reaction to the complexity of trying to juggle having feelings for both him and Byleth? Where he had been stretched thin with trying to support both Felix and Byleth, Felix had been pushing both of them away in an effort not to deal with it? 

He heaved an exasperated sigh and flopped back onto the bed. He had pushed too far, and he knew it. Their peace had been tenuous at best, and he had ruined it. He stared up at the ceiling for a few minutes until a knock sounded at the door. Dinner was to be served in fifteen minutes. He hoped Felix would show up.

Felix was quiet at dinner with his mother, not doing much other than silently eating his food. It wasn’t much different than dinner with his own family had been, and Sylvain told the same stories as he had that night with Lord and Lady Fraldarius. If his mother noticed the tension, she didn’t say anything—not that she ever pointed out things like that anyway. His father didn’t bother coming to the dining room, choosing to eat in his study instead.

After dinner, Felix hurried off to his room and Sylvain laid down alone in his own. It took a long time for him to fall asleep as he constantly questioned whether he should go and talk to Felix and apologize for saying the things he did. He was surprised when Felix walked in a few hours later and curled up against his side without a word. Sylvain fell asleep soon afterward. 

~Felix~

_He stood in the old Blue Lions classroom and looked around. Everything was the way it was before the invasion, and a wave of nostalgia ran through him. He turned at the familiar sound of heeled footsteps, and found Byleth in her old black and silver Academy uniform. Her hair seemed to glow as she walked toward him. She held her arms as she would when they had danced all those years ago when he was training for the White Heron Cup, and he took her into his hold without hesitation._

_They danced around the room as she hummed a beautiful tune. Eventually, they began to slow down, until they stood in the center of the room together. She slowly let go of him, trailing her hands up his arms until her fingers linked behind his head. He encircled her waist with his arms, pulling her closer still. He could feel her warmth against him as they started to sway, and the only sound in the room was her soft humming as she rested her head against his shoulder._

_He sighed as he leaned his head against Byleth’s, marveling at how well their bodies fit together. Her fingers lightly ran up the back of his neck until they threaded into his hair, sending a pleasant shiver down his spine. She pulled back, and he worried that he had upset her for a moment, but the smile on her face said otherwise as she stood on her toes and slotted her lips with his._

_It felt so natural to pull her flush against him as she deepened the kiss, her tongue exploring his mouth in a way that elicited a quiet moan from his throat. His hands traveled as the kiss continued, exploring the contours of her body that he had always seen but never dared to touch. She pulled back with a coy smirk, the same one that never failed to make his heart rate race. He didn’t have a chance to wonder what it was about before there was a firm tug on his hair. He moaned again as Sylvain pressed his lips to his, and then after they broke the kiss, the redhead leaned over his shoulder to meet Byleth’s lips._

_Sylvain’s warmth pressed against his back as Byleth’s body leaned against his front. Two set of hands explored his body as he shut his eyes and took in the sensations. Byleth’s lips found his again, and he savored the feel of her as Sylvain’s lips trailed over his neck and shoulders. Everything felt hazy and all consuming, making it harder and harder to focus on kissing Byleth as he tried to hold both of them, tried to grasp both of them like a lifeline._

_“Fe…” Sylvain softly whispered his name, and he sighed as he leaned his head back on the redhead’s shoulder. “Fe…? Are you okay?”_

His eyes flew open with a sharp gasp, and he immediately noticed that his forehead was damp with sweat as his breath came in short pants. Sylvain looked at him in concern before he turned his face away, trying to hide the warmth in his cheeks that could probably be seen in the early morning light. “Bad dream?” Sylvain cooed, curling up against his side. He squirmed as Sylvain brushed a hand down his side, only to realize…

“Oh… good dream…” Sylvain chuckled breathily and nuzzled his nose into the somewhat damp skin below his ear. “Didn’t mean to interrupt. You were making so much noise, I thought it was a nightmare.”

“It was,” he lied as he rolled to face away from Sylvain. Shame licked up his cheeks as the sensations from the dream played over and over in his mind. It really didn’t help when Sylvain pressed up against his back and brushed his hair aside so he could plant open mouthed kisses along his spine. He shivered as Sylvain’s hands moved from his waist down to his hips, slipping below his nightshirt so skin brushed against skin.

Sylvain hummed in the back of his throat, the sound vibrating through the both of them. Felix clicked his tongue and shoved his hands away before rolling out of the bed. “I should go back to my room. We don’t want someone running to your father about this.”

“You’re probably right,” Sylvain groaned as he threw an arm over his eyes dramatically.

“We’ll probably be leaving in a few hours anyway,” he reminded as he walked toward the door to Sylvain’s bedroom, trying to avoid the nuisance between his legs in favor of thinking of productive things, like the fact that they had to travel with Asshole Gautier the whole day as they headed back toward his parent’s home.

_Stupid Sylvain, getting into my head. It was just a stupid dream._

  
After two days of discussing the situation at Garreg Mach with Count Galatea, Margrave Gautier, and his father, they were finally setting back out toward Garreg Mach with Sylvain’s battalion in tow. Felix was eager to get back, as a majority of his thoughts over the last week had circled around what he wanted to say to Byleth when they returned. He bore a letter from his father detailing where and when they would meet to transfer the soldiers and supplies, so she had to see him for at least a moment.

Sylvain left him to his thoughts, staying nearby but not pushing any sort of conversation. They never talked about his accusation from the other night, where he suggested that he might have feelings for Byleth. It was not something he wanted to think about. Especially not with the fact that she basically hated him right now. Besides, he and Sylvain were finally in a good place. He wasn’t going to think past that if he didn’t have to.

After two days of travel, and ten total days away from the monastery, they finally approached the town at the base of Garreg Mach. They were met by a battalion of the Knights of Seiros, but after informing them of who they were, they were escorted to the Monastery proper. Sylvain and Felix took their horses to the stable, and after they handed off the reins to some squires, Sylvain walked over to grasp his arm.

“We never talked about what we want to tell the others,” he quietly murmured, and then hesitantly added, “Or what we want to tell Byleth.”

“What do you want to tell them?” he asked, raising an eyebrow as he met Sylvain’s honey-brown gaze.

“Well… what if we told just our close friends that we’re… ya know…” he hesitantly reached out to thread their fingers together until they were holding hands, “together.”

He opened his mouth to ask why he wanted people to know, but was interrupted by Ingrid’s panted, “You guys are finally back! Thank the—” she stopped as they turned to face her, and she stared at their hands with wide eyes, “Are you two…?” She shook her head vigorously and said, “We’ll talk about that later. For now, you two need to come with me.”

“What’s going on?” he asked sharply, suspicion laced in his tone, “Is something wrong?”

Ingrid’s forlorn expression in the face of the question had his heart twisting painfully in his chest. It was unlike Ingrid to be this visibly dismayed without a viable reason. She softly said, “Just… come with me.” 

She turned on her heel and walked purposefully toward the stairs to the second floor, and Sylvain looked at him in confusion as they climbed. His own confusion increased when they reached the stairs to the third floor and were met with knights posted at the base of the stairwell. Ingrid nodded curtly to them before she led them up the next flight of stairs. They then found Catherine and Caspar posted on both sides of Byleth’s door. Caspar’s greeting held obviously forced cheer, and Catherine was looking out toward the Star Terrace with a hand on Thunderbrand, obviously avoiding their eyes.

“Is someone going to explain what’s going on?” he snapped, rapidly breaking under the weight of Ingrid’s tense silence, “Where’s Byleth?” 

“She’s in here,” Ingrid explained as she knocked on the door.

“Why are there guards everywhere? Was there an attack?” he asked, unable to keep the anxiety from his tone. Everyone had worried about possible assassins, that was the whole reason she had hired Balthus in the first place. Was she injured? Was it just an additional precaution?

“No,” Ingrid shook her head as the door was opened by Linhardt.

“You’re back,” Linhardt’s blue eyes seemed to analyze them for a moment before he opened the door wider, “Come in and I’ll explain what’s going on.”

Sylvain started, “What is…” but trailed off when they stepped into the room and saw Byleth laid out on the bed in a white, loose nightgown. Yuri sat at the tea table on their right, his features blank as he looked up at them. His heart rate spiked as he looked frantically from Byleth on the bed to Yuri, Linhardt, and Ingrid. Sylvain had already left his side to walk over and sit beside Byleth.

“What happened?!” he barked, his hands shaking at his sides. He curled them into fists as he looked over Byleth’s still form. If it weren’t for the slow rise and fall of her chest, he would question whether she was even alive. Her body was completely still, and her face was far too pale.

“I’m going to get Seteth,” Ingrid reported, before rushing out the door.

“Someone better tell me what the hell is going on!” he snarled as he glared at Yuri. The lavender-haired swordsman met his gaze with a seemingly unbothered stare, a fact that fanned the heat in his chest as he stomped toward him.

“She’s sleeping,” Linhardt supplied as he walked over to put a light hand on Sylvain’s shoulder. 

“By…” Sylvain hesitantly whispered as he grabbed her hand.

“Not that kind of sleeping,” Linhardt interjected with a shake of his head, “We believe it’s a restorative slumber, similar to her five-year rest.”

“What?” Sylvain croaked as he turned to stare at Linhardt with wide eyes. “Was she injured? How long has she been like this? Is she going to sleep for five years again? What happened?” Each question from the red-headed lancer’s mouth came out more and more frantically until his voice quavered with obvious despair. 

“It’ll be easier to answer all of those questions if you wait for Seteth,” Yuri casually stated with a crossing of his arms.

“Why are you so calm?!” he roared in Yuri’s face before he could rein himself in, “The woman you are seeing might sleep for the next five years, and you can’t even bother to act like you care?!”

Yuri stood to match his glare and evenly said, “You’ve got it confused. The woman I fucked a few times is—” Felix saw red. With a cry of rage, he cocked his fist, throwing a punch at Yuri’s face, only for the bastard to grab his arm and smoothly pin it behind his back with a click of his tongue. He cooed in his ear, “Uh uh uh, none of that now.”

“That was crass, you must admit,” Linhardt sighed as he rolled his eyes, “Especially considering your current audience.” He waved a hand toward Sylvain, who held his head in his hands, not looking at anyone but Byleth.

“What do you want me to say?” Yuri scoffed, “That Little Miss Bleeding Heart over there has wormed her way under my skin? Sure. She’s infuriatingly hard to keep at arm’s length. But I’m not seeing her,” he stated gruffly with a shove as he released Felix’s arm. “And we’ve been at her bedside for a week now. I can’t focus on that when there is other shit to handle while she takes a fucking nap.”

Felix’s lip curled as he whirled on Yuri again, but Sylvain’s brokenly whispered, “Enough, Fe…” stopped him in his tracks. He pushed away the anger and panic that were building in his chest, and instead turned to focus on Sylvain. He walked over to put a hand on Sylvain’s shoulder, and the redhead turned to lean his head against him.

When another knock sounded on the door, Yuri walked over to open it, letting in Ingrid and Seteth. Ingrid looked between them, something analyzing in her gaze, but became alert as Felix nodded his head toward Sylvain in an effort to get her to take over comforting Sylvain. She came over to sit next to the Sylvain on the bed, as he walked toward Seteth with narrowed eyes. 

He demanded, “Answers. Now.”

The advisor’s eyes held a mixture of sympathy and irritation at his demand, but he could hardly care as every nerve in his body vibrated with worry. “Byleth woke me up early in the morning seven days ago to inform me that she had a vision. She said that she needed to go to Zanado,” he reported as he crossed his arms and glanced toward Byleth, “We got there, and she asked me a few questions. I asked some in return, and after a short conversation she started mumbling to herself. She walked away, and then suddenly dropped to her knees. Flayn and I rushed to her side, but she wasn’t responding to anything we said or did, similar to how she was acting when she sat on the throne in the Holy Tomb.”

He shuffled on his feet and looked down at the ground as he continued, “She started… crying—”

“It was just like the day her father died,” Linhardt interjected in a broken whisper, “It wasn’t just crying. She was wailing and it was… it was haunting.” The sleepy mage’s features were downcast and Ingrid’s expression became stormy at the mention of that day.

Seteth cleared his throat softly and added, “Her hair and eyes started to glow, just as they had in the Holy Tomb as she stood up. She raised her arms and started singing, and there was this… pulse through the air.”

“It was powerful faith magic,” Linhardt explained, “It was unlike anything I’ve ever felt before, including the Holy Tomb. As the magic spread, plants started to grow around us. The once barren canyon is now a lush landscape. It was… _extraordinary._ ” 

Felix wrinkled his brow in confusion, and turned to face Ingrid as she whispered, “From the sky it looked like a wave of green, spreading outwards from the pavilion where the professor stood.”

Seteth continued by saying, “She kept singing as the magic continued to spread, and then her hair and eyes dimmed as she fell to the ground. She whispered, ‘We’re safe now,’ and fell asleep. We brought her back to the monastery, and she’s been like this ever since. Nothing we have tried has been successful in waking her.”

“I don’t… understand,” he murmured as he put a hand to his forehead, “Why would she do that? How did she do that? How long will she be asleep?”

Seteth sighed heavily and looked at Byleth as he said, “Doctrine states that after an ancient war, Fodlan was destroyed—all save Zanado and the surrounding area that bore the goddess' blessing. That is the very reason the monastery was built here a millennia ago. This is sacred land. Grieved by the destruction of the land and its inhabitants, the goddess healed the devastated land with her divine magic. Restoring the continent required too much magic, even for her. As such, she fell into a deep, restorative slumber. Byleth said she felt that the goddess was asking her to go to Zanado, perhaps it was her will for Byleth to renew that blessing.”

Could that be why Sothis was sleeping in the Holy Tomb when her body was desecrated? Just like Byleth’s dream? How long would Byleth sleep, then? Would it be five years? More? Why would Sothis ask her to do it if she was going to fall asleep? Byleth thought Sothis brought her back to end the war, but there was no chance of her doing that if she was stuck in some restorative slumber.

Sylvain raised his head and asked, “So, you think Sothis made her do it?” 

Seteth exhaled sharply and pinched the bridge of his nose. “Mr. Gautier, it is hardly appropriate—”

“Byleth always referred to her as Sothis,” Felix sharply interrupted, “I don’t see what the trouble is.”

“Never mind, it is unimportant right now,” Seteth snapped, “What matters is that we continue to function as normal. If the enemy finds out that Byleth has returned to her slumber, we will be vulnerable. _She_ will be vulnerable. We’ve set up a rotation of guards made up of select groups of the Knights of Seiros and former students. Someone needs to be with her at all times until she wakes.”

“And we need to try and keep things moving as normal,” Yuri chimed in. “If everything comes to a halt, people will become suspicious. Rhea was always secluded, so it’s not difficult to say that Byleth is doing the same. However, we still need to train and plan attacks as though Byleth is partaking in the planning.”

He incredulously asked, “What? We just live life as normal even though the commander of our army is asleep?” 

Yuri nodded. “Exactly. If Hubert catches wind of this, he’ll send people after her to makes sure she doesn’t wake up. It’s easiest to take your opponent out of the game when they can’t fight back.” He waved a hand toward the bed, and Felix fought to suppress a shudder as he looked at Byleth’s still form. “They can’t warp directly into the room due to the ward that’s placed over it, but he can still get people into the monastery. We need to make sure no one gets to her.”

“Add me to the rotation,” he firmly said, placing a hand on the pommel of his sword.

“Me, as well,” Sylvain forlornly added from his place on the bed.

“Fine,” Seteth agreed with a nod of his head, “But for now, you should clean up so we can discuss the news you’ve brought from your fathers.”

Yuri stated, “Balthus and Hapi are coming to take over at the top of the hour. We’ll meet you in the Cardinal Room to discuss everything, then.”

“Can we just… have a minute?” Sylvain whispered, not meeting anyone’s gaze. Ingrid was sitting beside him, holding his hand as he held Byleth’s in the other.

“Sure,” Linhardt yawned, “We’ll wait outside until you’re done.” The sleepy mage herded everyone out of the room until it was just the two of them with Byleth. 

As soon as the door clicked shut, what was left of Sylvain’s composure shattered. He bowed his head to Byleth’s shoulder as his body shook with soft sobs. Felix stood transfixed near the tea table, unable to move closer to them. Sylvain quietly wept, “Wake up, By. You have to wake up.”

The image of Byleth sleeping like this at the bottom of a river flashed in his mind unbidden, and he sank heavily into a chair to hold his head in his hands. It couldn’t be five years. He was supposed to come back and fix things. He was going to apologize, get back into her favor. He was going to prove that he deserved a spot at her side. He was going to prove that he was willing to do anything to continue being her friend. He was going to prove he could be someone she trusted. She had to wake up. If she didn’t he didn’t know what he would do with himself.

“Fe…” Sylvain’s call pulled him from his spiraling thoughts, “what are we going to do?” Honey eyes looked to him, still glistening with tears, and his heart dropped like a stone into his stomach.

He stood and walked over to take Sylvain into his arms, just as his friend had done so many times for him, and firmly said, “We’re going to be right here to keep her safe until she wakes up.”

Sylvain sniffled, “Why would Sothis make her do it if she was going to fall asleep again? I don’t understand.”

“I don’t know,” he sighed, “I’m sure there’s more to this than we know. We’ll ask Byleth when she wakes up.”

They sat in heavy silence as they held one another, both stuck in their own thoughts. There was a knock at the door, and Sylvain hurriedly wiped his face as Felix walked over to crack it open. “Hey,” Yuri quietly greeted, “Seteth’s gone and I need to tell you something.” 

He scowled, but let Yuri and Linhardt in all the same. The green-haired mage went over to lay down on the bed beside Byleth as Yuri stood near the tea table. “What do you need to tell us that you couldn’t say when Seteth was here?” he asked as he folded his arms and sat down by Sylvain.

“Byleth had a nightmare the night before we went to Zanado,” Yuri began, causing Sylvain to instantly become more alert beside him, “She didn’t tell me what it was about, but she immediately tumbled out of bed to go and look at this thing.” Yuri flipped the lid of the trunk that sat near the tea table open to reveal the Shield of Seiros.

He continued, “She touched it and then dropped like a stone. When she came to a few minutes later, she told me she had a vision. She told me that she had just watched Saint Seiros kill Nemesis.”

“What?” Sylvain asked, his tone filled with something Felix couldn’t bother to analyze at the moment.

“That’s not the interesting part,” Yuri chuckled as he flicked his hair over his shoulder, “The interesting part is that Byleth says Lady Rhea is Saint Seiros, herself. She says that the former Archbishop is actually over one thousand years old.”

“So, Rhea’s actually a thousand-year old dragon lady?” The incredulous question spilled through his lips before it was fully considered, but it garnered an enthusiastic reaction from the sleepy mage behind him.

“Dragon lady?” he very nearly squealed in delight, “Are you saying the dragon that we saw the day of the Battle of Garreg Mach was, in fact, the Archbishop?”

“That’s the whole reason Byleth nearly died,” he grumbled, “She was trying to help Rhea, when the mage that saved Monica appeared and blew her off that cliff.”

“Perhaps that means… and maybe the Relics… children of the Goddess… blood and Crests…” the sleepy mage mumbled incomprehensible phrases as he stood and distractedly walked toward the door.

“Where are you going?” Yuri called with a hint of annoyance.

“I have some reading I need to do,” Linhardt mumbled before waving a hand over his shoulder and leaving the room. Yuri’s “You’re supposed to be on guard duty, sleepy mage,” went unheard or unheeded.

Yuri mirthlessly chuckled, “If it’s possible to read yourself into an early grave, sleepy mage already has one foot in the casket. And it’s only been a week.”

“Lin has always read a lot,” Sylvain sighed, “He scoured through the entire Gautier library in a little over a year.”

“Well, now he has a passion project,” Yuri mused, “so I imagine it will only get worse.”

“Passion project?” Sylvain asked with a raised eyebrow.

“Byleth’s got both of us researching the shadow group of mages that is actually responsible for Duscur. I use my birds, Linhardt combs through the Shadow Library in Abyss.” So, Byleth had gone to Yuri and Linhardt for help discovering all of this without even considering the two of them. Not that he or Sylvain would be particularly useful, it just hurt that she didn’t feel she could bring it to them. Though, she had told him about the vision and he had screamed at her, so it made sense.

_I’m such a fucking asshole._

Felix’s fists clenched in his lap as he gritted out, “Have you found anything yet?”

“Byleth put it together that she saw Arundel with a woman towards the end of her vision in the Holy Tomb. We think Edelgard’s uncle was involved, but she seems to think that we’re still missing something. We were discussing having her sit on the throne in the Holy Tomb again, but then this happened.” He waved a hand in Byleth’s direction, and Felix noticed the strain at the corners of his eyes and the slight tensing of his shoulders. Perhaps the rat really was worried, and just didn’t want to show it. Or didn’t want to admit it.

“Goddess…” Sylvain sighed, “This is all such a mess.”

Yuri chuckled, “You have no idea, friend.” His easy going features softened as he moved to stand in front of him, trying to catch his eye. Felix looked away, but ended up looking back when Yuri said, “I don’t know how long our friend here is going to be asleep, so I think you should know something.”

Once their eyes met, Yuri began by saying, “Byleth was really worried about how you two left things. She was a wreck those first two days, even if she wouldn’t show it. She was eager to fix things when you two got back. I know she’s going to wake up and all, but I would want to know if I were you. I’m sure you’ve been wanting to apologize, as well.” Felix bowed his head, trying to hide the burn in his eyes as he gritted his teeth.

“And just so you know, your whole “will they, won’t they” deal is tearing her apart. You guys won’t get anywhere if you don’t fill her in. Oh, and we aren’t together. It was casual fucking, and we both knew it.” Yuri sighed in relief and stretched his arms above his head. “There, I’ve done my good deed for the year. Now go and get cleaned up so we can talk about more productive things. I’ll watch her until Hapi and Balthus show up.” 

They had four weeks. Four weeks until they were supposed to meet his father and the Kingdom rebellion’s troops in the Valley of Ailell. Four weeks to wait and pray that Byleth would wake up. The war council meeting held grim faces, the news of Byleth’s slumber hanging heavy over everyone’s heads. Everyone sent him looks of pity, a fact that he hated as he kept his jaw rigidly set and his arms firmly crossed. Sylvain’s features were a carefully twisted into his cheery façade, but it wasn’t fooling anyone.

The war was just beginning, and morale was already terrifyingly low.

_Wake up, Byleth… Please, wake up._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Updates are going to be a bit slow for a bit. I recommend subscribing to the story or my page if you want to get an email when it updates. Trying to keep a regular schedule for this fic is becoming stressful and I have other fics that my brain is working on without my consent. Soooo... thanks for your patience.


	19. High Hopes (It Takes Me Back To When We Started)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Byleth slumbers on. Sylvain and Felix try to adjust to the changes.
> 
> Chapter title taken from High Hopes by Kodaline

~Sylvain~

Apparently, Felix’s insistence that he be added to the rotation for guarding Byleth actually meant he wanted to _take charge_ of said rotation. Seteth handed over the responsibility with a weary sigh and washed his hands of the whole ordeal after the tenth argument in the span of two days. The man had other shit to deal with during Byleth’s incapacitation, so Sylvain couldn’t blame him. Besides, Seteth and Flayn lived just down the hall, and the advisor mostly stayed in his office on the second floor, so Sylvain figured he would be around if anything happened, anyway.

Felix increased the number of knights posted at the bottom of the stairwell leading to the third floor, as well as setting up a route for even more knights to walk a perimeter around the building that housed the offices. More fliers were instructed to circle the monastery, keeping watch for any potential threats as well as being prepared to sound the alarm in case of an actual attack. Yuri and Felix were increasingly worried about one of Hubert’s “rats”—Yuri’s name for the dark-haired mages spies—finding out. Excited murmurs could always be heard around the monastery about the “goddess’ blessing” that had been placed on the monastery and the surrounding area. Crops were yielding in winter, a fact that was hard to cover up, and apparently many had felt the pulse of magic that day. Even the greenhouse was having more success than was considered normal, if Ashe’s excited tittering meant anything. Yuri reported that he hadn’t heard many murmurs about Byleth’s absence around the monastery, but he and Felix were on edge all the same. 

Their old classmates were—somewhat willingly—recruited to stand guard at the third floor, as well as at the Star Terrace. They were all eager to help keep Byleth safe, but Felix was nothing if not brutally specific in his planning. He had enlisted Yuri to discover the exact perimeter of where one could warp in, and had been somewhat relieved that enemies could not warp onto the third floor at all. Seteth was dismissive when Yuri slyly asked what sort of ward had been placed over the floor, and had quickly excused himself from conversation. 

Sylvain found himself seated at the tea table listlessly staring at Byleth’s still form more often than not. Felix was going to drive the others to the brink of revolt with his harsh barking of orders, but he couldn’t find it in himself to try and play mediator right now. They had been back for over a week—meaning over two weeks of Byleth’s deep slumber—and there was still no change in Byleth’s condition. The only source of comfort was that they knew she was sleeping, which implied that she would eventually wake up. However, the question that plagued his mind was _when_. This wasn’t a fatal injury, like the last incident that had forced her into this state. But Manuela, Mercedes, and Lin all reported that she had used an overwhelming amount of magic. 

Lin mumbled, “if she was human, she would have died from the magical exhaustion,” under his breath and was nearly ripped apart by Felix for the observation. “She is human!” was the swordsman’s roared rebuttal. Lin had been calm as ever, but had quickly dismissed himself rather than poking the proverbial bear.

Felix seemed to prefer standing guard outside the door rather than being in the room with Byleth’s body— _sleeping form not body, body implies lifelessness and Byleth is still alive_ —so there was a rotation of people that would come to sit inside the room with him. Bernadetta would bring up her crafting supplies with her weapons, and he would half-listen to her murmured instructions on how to knit different patterns. She was working on a stuffed carnivorous plant for Byleth, “to give her when she wakes up” she’d explained with only a slight waver in her voice and a sideways look toward where Byleth slept.

Balthus was a regular that he hadn’t been expecting—spouting off that he was the one who was actually being paid for his efforts, so he should be pulling his own weight in this whole gig. He tried to help Felix with the planning of the guards and such, but was brushed off at every opportunity, so he ended up sitting with Sylvain a lot of the time. Turned out the large brawler was shit at cards, which served to be a somewhat effective distraction for him. Trying to teach the big man how to play chess was another interesting pass time that Yuri liked to observe when he wasn’t busy with whatever the lavender-haired man was busy with all the time.

Dorothea had taken a few shifts with him, but surprised him when she came by outside of a scheduled time. He was half-working on some magical theory with Annette—really he was just staring off into space until he was prodded by the red-headed mage—when she knocked on the door and poked her head in. “Sylvie,” she cooed as she walked over to grab his hand, “you are coming with me.”

He tried to fend her off by saying, “I’m supposed to be watching—”

“I’ll take over for ya!” Caspar interrupted in a loud voice, walking into the room shortly after Dorothea. “You should go and get some rest, or maybe do some training or something.” 

Dorothea shot the blue-haired nuisance a look before pulling Sylvain to his feet. “Come and have lunch with me, at the very least. I feel like I’ve hardly seen you since you’ve been back.”

“No, Thea,” he sighed in irritation as he ran a hand through his somewhat greasy hair— _when did I last bathe…?_ —"I should be here.”

Dorothea sighed wearily and replied, “There’s no telling when she’ll wake up, Sylvie. You can’t sit here wasting away the whole time.”

“I’m not wasting away, and I have to be here when she wakes up. I have to _be here!_ ” The last words tore from his throat in a frantic shout that made him wince with how pathetic it sounded—not to mention it was enough to make all three of the other people in the room stare at him in an obvious display of pity. 

“I know you want to be here,” Dorothea cooed as she stepped up to pull his head to her chest, “but you have to consider what Byleth would think. How is she going to feel if she wakes up and sees you like this?” She stepped back enough to cup his cheek and stroke the unruly stubble that had grown along his jaw as the other thumb stroked the soft skin under his eyes.

He half-heartedly argued, “She’s seen me in worse states.” Which was true, she definitely had. However, even as he said it, he knew deep down that it would only make things worse for her. There was no doubt in his mind that she was going to feel guilty for falling asleep for an extended period of time—AGAIN—and making everyone worry as they all were. If he was outwardly a wreck… Well, it would only make things worse for her.

He just felt so damn… guilty. He wasn’t here. He was never fucking here when she needed him. He left her behind during the fall of the monastery and he left her behind to go to Kingdom territory. Both may have been on her orders, but it didn’t stop the gnawing ache in his chest that wishes that he would have been here, that wonders if maybe things had been different if he had been. It was all so fucked up. He couldn’t sleep, couldn’t eat… 

It all felt so pointless.

“Come and get some lunch with me,” Dorothea insisted with another tug on his hand, “Some sunlight will do you some good, and you desperately need a bath and a shave.”

“Caspar and I will keep an eye on her,” Annette promised with a determined pump of her fist, “And if she wakes up, I’ll sprint to the dining hall as quickly as I can!” 

“I’ll make sure she stays here while I do the sprinting,” Caspar teased with a goofy grin, “Goddess knows she’d probably kill herself, or someone else, running around like that.”

“Hey!” Annette indignantly shouted with her fists planted on her hips, making everyone chuckle at the thought. He could only imagine what sort of damage an excitedly frantic Annette would do to the monastery or to herself if Byleth woke up.

“Come on,” Dorothea gently coaxed, “We’ll get Felix and Ingrid to come, as well. I’m forcing all of you to take a break.” 

“Good luck with that one,” he scoffed as he reluctantly stood. He cast one last glance Byleth’s way before nodding and walking out of the room. Dorothea was right—being locked up in here with her wasn’t helping anybody. Besides, he’d be back as soon as he got some food and cleaned up.

It seemed that Dorothea had enlisted help—utter brilliance on her part—and Shamir was already glaring Felix down when they walked out the door. His ornery swordsman looked especially angry as he glared right back with his arms crossed and his jaw set. Catherine, Mercedes, and Bernadetta watched with touches of amusement as well as a bit of trepidation—the trepidation mostly in Bernadetta's features. 

The nervous archer was ultimately the needle that broke the camel’s back. She walked over to Felix, lightly put a hand on his arm, and pleaded, “Please take a break. The Professor would want you to.” There wasn’t much Felix could do in the face of a direct request from Bernadetta—he was a sucker for the timid archer, whether he would admit it or not—especially with that sort of logic. 

Of course, that didn’t stop him from hissing, “If something happens while I’m gone…”

“Oh, give it a rest,” Shamir grumbled while pinching the bridge of her nose. “I’m more than capable of protecting her if something happens, I’ve certainly been doing it a lot longer than you have. Now get the hell out of here… both of you.” Felix sent one last glare over his shoulder before storming towards the stairs without waiting for him and Dorothea.

Ingrid was somewhat easier to rope into sitting down for lunch. She was in the training hall, reportedly the only other place you could find her if she wasn’t in the Cathedral with His Highness, or sleeping in her room. He had a feeling the only reason she didn’t resist was so she could interrogate he and Felix about their relationship, if the pointed look she sent their way was any indication. She hadn’t said anything since they’d been back, for obvious reasons, but he had a sneaky suspicion she was done waiting for an explanation.

Felix walked beside him, but there was plenty of space between them as they walked down the pathway toward the dining hall. The distance felt like too much. He wanted to go back to his room with Felix and just hold him for a while, like they had been able to during their trip. The thought made him feel guilty, especially after knowing everything that had happened while he was enjoying his alone time with Felix. He could almost hear Byleth telling him not to be stupid, that she didn’t care about all of that and she was happy for them, but it didn’t help the gnawing guilt in his stomach.

“Spill,” Ingrid demanded as she slammed her tray down on the table with a bit more force than necessary. They weren’t even going to get a bite in, it seemed.

“What are you on about?” Felix grumbled as he cut into his pheasant. With the effects of the blessing and word getting around of the reoccupation of the monastery, more merchants had begun making their way to the monastery, so their food stores had been buoyed significantly. However, the resources from the Kingdom rebellion would definitely help until more standard trade could make its way to the monastery.

“You two,” Ingrid accused as she pointed her fork between them somewhat menacingly.

Sylvain looked to Felix, not wanting to say something that the swordsman wouldn’t appreciate, and he scowled down at his food in response. They hadn’t spoken much since they had returned. Felix had thrown himself headlong into Byleth’s protection, but some of the blame lay in the fact that he had only really had enough emotional energy to worry about Byleth. Anything else felt like too much for him right now, and he had been neglecting Felix because of it. It was a hell of a way to start this whole thing, though their first kiss was right after he almost died so it wasn’t like they were ever going to do things normally, were they?

He tried to be as sneaky as possible as he reached over and put a hand on Felix’s leg, and his friend turned lover huffed a somewhat annoyed breath out of his nose before grumbling, “We’re… together.” The last word came out softer than the first, and it made Sylvain’s heart feel like it was too big for his chest as he squeezed Felix’s leg lightly—actively trying not to beam like a total idiot. 

Ingrid’s jaw dropped as Dorothea clapped excitedly and beamed at them. “Since when?!” Ingrid cried a little too loudly, and then realizing that, she repeated in a closer to normal volume, “Since when?” Again, Sylvain looked to Felix, but he rolled his eyes and waved a hand toward Ingrid in what he assumed was a “I’m done talking about this so say whatever you want” way.

“The answer to that is a bit complicated,” he explained as he rubbed at the back of his neck, “but kinda since that raid we pulled on the Empire’s caravan that we did for resources to help Galatea territory about a year ago?”

“What?!” Ingrid shouted again, before quickly blushing as everyone turned to look at the outburst.

Felix tsked and then groused, “Would you just eat your food already?”

“We’re not really… saying anything,” he stammered as he glanced around at the other people in the dining hall who were slowly going back to their own conversations. When Ingrid lifted an inquisitive eyebrow, he explained, “At least right now. We’re in the middle of a war, and there’s our fathers to contend with…” Ingrid’s features fell as she looked down at her food. If anyone was going to even somewhat understand the predicament they were in when it came to their fathers, it was Ingrid.

“Not to mention its nobody’s business,” Felix grumbled before taking another—far more forceful than necessary—bite of his food.

“Well I’m extremely happy for you both,” Dorothea practically sang as she threw her hair over her shoulder. “So what if we’re at war? If anything, I think that means we should hold the ones we care about as close as we can. There has to be something to live for, surely we can’t be fighting this just to _survive_.”

“I can’t help noticing you aren’t shocked in the slightest,” Ingrid accused with a sideways glance.

“After the looks Sylvain was sending Felix’s way during the Academy days?” Dorothea giggled, “Oh, please. Frankly, I’m shocked it didn’t happen sooner.” That remark seemed to get Felix’s attention, and he stared at him wide eyed for a moment until he caught himself and turned his attention back to his food.

“The Academy? I always thought…” Ingrid quickly clamped her mouth shut and worked on shoving more food in her mouth. It didn’t take much to guess what Ingrid had thought, though the specifics might be interesting. Felix tensed slightly, but blew out a heavy breath and focused back on his food. “Anyways… I’m happy for you both,” Ingrid insisted with a level of sincerity that finally made the strain to not grin like an idiot too much to bear. He hadn’t realized that he was worried about what Ingrid would think until now. She was one of their oldest friends, so it would make sense if she felt weird about the whole ordeal. He was grateful that didn’t seem to be a problem.

“I’m also assuming that means I don’t have to clean up after Sylvain anymore, and I could not be happier,” the blonde pegasus knight jabbed with a teasing grin. 

He indignantly yelped, “Hey!” But he appreciated Felix’s smirk as he snickered quietly, so the jab didn’t hurt his pride… too much. And it was nice to see the usually serious Ingrid joke around, even if it was at his expense.

Dorothea giggled melodically and leaned over to place her head on Ingrid’s shoulder. “I’m so jealous,” she playfully whined as she looked up at Ingrid, “Aren’t you Ingy?”

“Ingy?” Ingrid droned with a raised eyebrow, lightly shoving Dorothea’s head from her shoulder. Sylvain bit back a chuckle as Dorothea twisted her beautiful features into a dramatic hurt expression.

“Come now, beautiful,” the songstress playfully crooned, “I have pet names for almost everyone!”

“You don’t have one for Felix,” Sylvain teasingly interjected, earning a light kick to the shin from the swordsman in question, as well as a glare that had no right to make his heart stutter like that.

“Because I’d cut her in two if she tried,” Felix growled.

“But Bernie would be so sad if I were cut in two,” Dorothea pouted, her eyes playful as she leaned her chin lightly in her hand, “So really you just couldn’t, now could you?” It seemed that the songstress was more than excited about finding a perceived weakness in the swordsman—well… one that could be poked at without being especially cruel.

Felix’s scowled deepened as he moved to stand and walk away, but Sylvain reached out and grabbed his elbow to keep him in place with his best puppy dog eyes. He was surprised when it almost seemed to work, he had figured his beseeching looks would have worn off for the swordsman years ago. Felix hovered there, halfway between sitting and standing before he mumbled, “I should get back.” He released the swordsman as the playfulness he had momentarily been feeling, died a painful death.

“Stay a while longer,” Ingrid insisted with big pleading eyes, “I feel like I haven’t seen either of you much since we’ve all been back at the monastery. I’ve missed being around you both.” The unspoken element of Dimitri not being with them was portrayed in her crestfallen features, and for a moment he worried that it would push Felix away. He was pleasantly surprised when the swordsman sat back down—albeit with an annoyed huff—and then moved to grasp his hand lightly under the table.

“Fine,” he grumbled, the slightest dusting of pink appearing across his cheeks as Sylvain swiped his thumb over the back of his hand, “but only for a little bit longer.”

It was only about fifteen minutes later when Caspar came charging into the Dining Hall. Felix was immediately on his feet, almost knocking Sylvain off the bench in his haste to get to the blue-haired brawler, as he called, “Is she…?!”

Caspar shook his head frantically as he panted, “Lin... Hanneman… they want to try something. Figured you’d want to be there.” Felix didn’t need any other explanation, neither did Sylvain. Both of them ran toward the door, Ingrid and Dorothea following closely at their heels.

They crested the stairs and Catherine pushed open the door to Byleth’s room as she called, “They’re coming.”

They trampled into the room and found Hanneman and Lin standing in the corner, speaking in hushed tones as they looked over a notebook with Linhardt’s sprawled handwriting across the page. “What do you think you two are doing?” Felix snarled as he entered the room.

“Testing something,” Linhardt airily responded, “Would you like to watch, or no?”

“And who says you can just test things on her like a lab rat?” Felix spat as he moved to place himself between Byleth and the green-haired mage.

“I already have her permission to research her Crest, and what I’m doing involves her Crest,” Linhardt shrugged before yawning into the back of his hand. “Besides, if it works, I hardly think she’ll be angry, do you?” Big blue eyes stared into amber ones before Felix became uncomfortable with the extended eye contact and looked toward him in supplication. 

He shrugged and hesitantly muttered, “If it helps her wake up…”

Felix rolled his eyes, crossed his arms, and scoffed. The unholy trifecta of annoyance. He growled, “Fine. But if it hurts her, you’ll be dealing with me.” 

“Do you honestly think I would try it if I thought there was a possibility of it harming her?” Linhardt asked as his eyebrows furrowed. When Felix didn’t immediately deny it, he sighed exasperatedly and grumbled, “Honestly. What do you take me for?” He walked around Felix and moved to stand over Byleth as a spell sigil formed in front of him.

Linhardt mumbled something under his breath as he shifted his now glowing hands and then laid them on Byleth’s chest. The room was completely silent as everyone watched the proceedings with bated breath. Rather suddenly, Linhardt was violently blown back, and he hit the ground with a strangled yelp. Sylvain began to make his way toward the green-haired mage—the sound of Caspar worriedly yelling his childhood friend’s name echoing through the room—however they all froze as the Crest of Flames bloomed from Byleth’s chest growing larger and larger until it glowed in front of her just as it always did in the dream he kept having during the five years Byleth was gone.

Gasps rang out as everyone stared at the Crest of Flames glowing above her, and they all eagerly watched as it slowly faded, shrinking down until her chest glowed faintly golden. However, Hanneman’s yell of, “Someone get a healer!” snapped everyone out of their awed reveries. 

Dorothea rushed to Lin’s side, where he lay unconscious on the ground, as Ingrid sprinted out of the room. Annette joined Dorothea as they hovered over Linhardt, both of their hands glowing with healing magic. Neither were particularly skilled healers, both preferring reason to faith magic, but it was worth the few precious moments it would buy if something was wrong with him. Everyone huddled around worriedly watching Linhardt on the ground, but Felix had moved over to the bed to sit beside Byleth’s still form.

When Sylvain put a light hand on his shoulder, he startled violently and whipped his head around to look at him. Worry overcame him when he saw tear had formed in the corners of the swordsman’s eyes, but Felix was quick to wipe them away with his sleeve as he turned back to Byleth. He leaned closer to his friend— _lover? Boyfriend?_ —and whispered, “What’s wrong?” But Felix waved him off as he focused in on Byleth’s face. 

Footsteps sounded down the stone hallway and Felix quickly stood and placed a hand on the pommel of his sword, but stopped when he saw it was just Flayn and Seteth. “What is going on?!” the advisor hollered as he took in the scene of the room.

“Linhardt and I came up with an idea that might help Miss Eisner wake up,” Hanneman hesitantly explained, as Flayn rushed over to kneel over Linhardt, “It did not have the desired result.”

Seteth’s eyes blew wide as he looked between the bed and Hanneman a few times. “What?!”

“He’ll be alright,” Flayn chimed from the floor. She looked up at Hanneman and asked, “What exactly did you try to do to the Professor?”

“Well, you see… we were thinking about the fact that Miss Eisner’s Crest helps her to heal from injury in battle. We thought that if we could get her Crest to flare, perhaps the effect would help her body to recover faster. We have been working under the assumption that this state is an effect of her Crest in effort to keep her alive, so it seemed probable. At worst, the flaring of her Crest wouldn’t harm her, so we thought we would test it.”

“I think the Professor’s Crest did flare, and it took energy from Linhardt’s body, similar to a nonlethal Nosferatu spell. He’ll sleep for a while, but I can’t help wondering if it helped.” There was an edge of something desperately hopeful in Flayn’s eyes as she looked toward Byleth’s form on the bed. Sylvain idly wondered why she was as concerned as she was, but perhaps there was something he wasn’t understanding. He knew the younger girl idolized Byleth, largely due to her hand in saving her when she had been kidnapped and held by the Death Knight.

“The Crest of Flames did glow in front of her for a few moments,” Hanneman mumbled as he put a hand to his chin, “Fascinating. That must mean that the healing she gains is energy she siphons from those she is fighting. How spectacular!” Also slightly unsettling. However if it kept her safe, Sylvain had no qualms whatsoever.

“But she is not awake,” Seteth slowly retorted, his eyes now trained on the bed, “Do you honestly think it could have helped?” Flayn walked over to the bed, and Sylvain thought there was a slight tremble in her hands as she placed them on Byleth’s chest. A dim golden glow could still be seen where Byleth’s heart should beat. Flayn hummed slightly, drawing her eyebrows together.

“It’s hard to explain,” she hesitantly mumbled, “When she first collapsed, it was obvious it was magic exhaustion. The level of that has… lessened? I think?” She sounded unsure, but Felix’s eyes widened with a painfully hopeful look all the same.

“I’ll discuss it with Linhardt when he wakes up,” Hanneman contemplatively mumbled, a triumphant look on his face. “Perhaps we could try it multiple times and take note of any changes. I notice her chest is still glowing, perhaps it is an effect of the Crest’s triggering while she’s in this state?” He chuckled jovially and called, “It’s all so very exciting!”

“I’ll take Lin back to his room and keep an eye on him,” Caspar reported as he stooped to pick the unconscious mage up.

“Sylvain and I will watch her for now,” Felix mumbled, sitting back down on the bed as soon as Flayn moved out of the way. 

Seteth cleared his throat softly and said, “Let me know if you see any changes.” Then, with one last glance at Byleth, he left the room. Everyone else filtered out, and as soon as everyone was gone, off to their assignments or whatever else they had been doing beforehand, Sylvain walked over to turn the lock.

He slowly walked back over to the bed and crawled across it to sit on Byleth’s other side, his eyes trained on Felix’s face. After a moment of silence Felix whispered, “The way her Crest was glowing… it was just like how it was when I dreamed about Byleth… while she was gone.”

His voice strained slightly as he stammered, “You… you dreamed about her?”

Felix was still looking at Byleth’s face as he quietly explained, “It was the same dream everyone had to tell them to come to the monastery, but I had it so many times I lost count. Every time she was there, right in front of me. But every time I tried to touch her—”

“She would fade away,” he quietly finished, startling Felix into looking up at him.

“Are you saying you had it too?!” the swordsman cried, his features a twisted mixture of grief and anger. The look in those amber eyes he loved so much made his heart twist in his chest.

He nodded as he dropped his eyes to look at the blanket that covered Byleth’s legs. “I thought it was just my brain being cruel,” he hesitantly confessed as he picked at a loose thread.

“Why didn’t you tell me?!” Felix gritted out. He didn’t have to look up to know that Felix’s jaw was tight, and his fists were most likely balled into fists at his sides. Whether it was anger at him, or the situation, he wasn’t quite sure. He also wasn’t completely sure he wanted to know in the first place.

“I… I don’t know,” he sorrowfully replied, and he looked back up at Felix as he asked, “Why didn’t you tell me?” 

“Because I was angry!” he roared, all while moving to pace beside the bed. “I was angry at her for breaking her promise. I was angry at her for being dead. I was angry that she wasn’t by my side! I was so angry that I didn’t even consider what it meant! I was so busy being angry that I didn’t listen! I just… gave up on her!” Amber eyes filled with tears as he cried, “I gave up on her, Syl. How could I do that? After all she’s done, after all we know she’s capable of… how could I just give up on her like that? I left her there, in the bottom of that goddess damned river, because I was too busy being angry at her to even give a fuck! I just abandoned her!” 

He moved to try and console the frantic swordsman as he whispered, “Seteth told us she fell off of a cliff. _Everyone_ thought she was dead.” He hadn't given up on her per say, but he certainly hadn't done anything to look for her either.

Felix shrugged off his consoling touches, and put distance between them. He didn’t pursue him, figuring he might need space to think. “But even after everyone had the dream, I didn’t believe it,” Felix angrily wept, “I only came down here in the first place because I thought all of you were only going to be disappointed. I didn’t think it was possible that she would be here, even after that voice said she was waiting for me!”

His heart dropped to his stomach as he asked, “Sothis said she was waiting for you?” 

Felix’s eyebrows furrowed. “Sothis?”

“Did you miss that part? The voice in the dream was Sothis. Byleth thought she was the one who called us all here.”

“The goddess thinks I’m a fool, then,” Felix grumbled dejectedly, seeming somewhat stunned and almost pouty if it wasn’t Felix he was looking at, “She made a point of saying it… _several times_.”

“Well, I guess we’re in the same boat,” he sighed. “Though, I vaguely remember that she said something about us being fools in the Sealed Forest, so at least we’re dependable in that regard.” He chuckled weakly and looked back down at Byleth. There was still no movement, and the golden light no longer shown on her chest. 

There was a moment of silence between them before he finally confessed, “I just hate that we weren’t here.”

In a heavy exhale Felix sighed, “I know.” The mattress shifted as he sat back down on the bed and lightly touched Byleth’s arm. It looked like he wanted to take her hand, but wouldn’t let himself do it. “I’m never going to abandon her again,” he vowed in a serious tone, “Hell, I won’t leave her side until this fucking war is over. She’s going to wake up, and…” he paused and looked up at Sylvain with a vulnerability that was rare to see, “I’m going to make things right. I’m going to keep her safe, no matter what I need to do.”

Sylvain had grown up hearing the tales of the Fraldarius line’s unending loyalty, just as every other child in the Kingdom had. Loyalty and sacrifice were trumpeted as traits passed down through their blood along with the Fraldarius Crest, starting all the way back with Loog and Kyphon—hell, maybe even sooner. Felix had been excited by those stories when they were children. Whenever they played knights with Dimitri and Ingrid, he was always Dimitri’s protector, just like Glenn. Obviously, his viewpoint had changed after Glenn’s death, just as many of Felix’s other opinions changed after such a life changing event. However, as Sylvain observed intense amber eyes staring down at Byleth as Felix finally found the nerve to take her hand, he couldn’t help thinking that Felix was every bit the Shield that Glenn, his father, and his father’s father were—he’d just given his undying loyalty to someone who wasn’t a Blaiddyd.

Somewhere in the back of his mind he wondered if that should make him jealous. He wondered if his best friend, his lover, his swordsman’s loyalty should belong to anyone but him. He’d certainly been jealous of Felix’s interest in Byleth when they were young. Thinking back on it now, he wondered if perhaps that jealousy was part of the reason he disliked her so much in the beginning. Sure, his feelings about her had been even more complicated by Miklan, and his anger and hurt surrounding his abusive older brother, but maybe that jealousy had also played a role. 

However, now the thought settled peacefully in his chest. He didn’t feel jealous, he felt pride and love in equal measures for his swordsman who had finally found something he truly believed in. The thread that made up all three of their lives had been intertwined that fateful day at the bottom of that well, and they had only been braided further once they reunited at the Academy. The form that their friendship took might not be what he would have guessed when he was young, or even when Garreg Mach fell, but the pattern was changing now—it was growing and evolving, just as the three of them were.

Now Byleth just had to wake up.

_Please... By. Please wake up._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Flayn: *Internally giggling excitedly because they may have a solution to help if she ever falls into a restorative sleep again*  
> Seteth: *Internally groaning in agony because LINHARDT and HANNEMAN could be the ones who came up with it. 
> 
> Short and sweet chapter. I'm really excited for the next one. (LOTS to look forward to but probably won't be out for a bit because it's an absolute monster chapter.)


	20. Let Your Words Release Your Pain, You and I Will Bear the Weight

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Chapter title is a line from "Talk to Me" by Cavetown
> 
> Byleth finally wakes and has some very important conversations.

~Byleth~   
  


The first sensation she noticed as her mind swam toward consciousness, was the comfort beneath her. Trying to wake felt like swimming through mud, and required quite a bit of concentration. Concentration that was becoming harder and harder as the sound of voices nearby alerted her that others were in the room—wherever she was. 

_What happened?_

Her brain searched through fuzzy memories until they all became clear in in rapid succession. Her eyes burned, and a lump grew in her throat as she remembered it all—Sothis and her children, the peace they had in Zanado, and the soul crushing sorrow as Nemesis came and destroyed it all. The deaths of those beings—Sothis’ children and loved ones—she felt intrinsically tied to, weighed on her very soul as she finally found the strength to crack open her eyes. 

Tears immediately spilled down her cheeks, and she reached a heavy hand up to wipe them away with the tiniest sniffle.

“By!” Her eyes drifted over as Sylvain scrambled from the tea table in her room to her side on the bed. Her brain slowly put the connection together—she was back in her room in the monastery, but Sylvain was back? He was supposed to be in the Kingdom, wasn’t he? She heard the door open and shut with a loud crash, but she was focused on Sylvain.

Her voice croaked as she asked, “You’re back?” He was also tearing up as he immediately draped his body over the upper-half of hers in a desperate hug that squeezed the air from her lungs. She wrapped her arms around him as best she could before she wheezed, “Syl… I can’t breathe.” 

The redhead’s grip on her immediately became looser as he sat up just enough for his face to hover over hers, wiping some tears that continued to stream down her cheeks. “Are you in pain?” he fussed, glancing down toward the rest of her body like some wound might have appeared, “What’s wrong?”

“How long?” she asked, staring into caramel eyes that still glistened with unshed tears. It was the only explanation that her brain could come up with. Sylvain and Felix were supposed to be away from the monastery for at least a week on their diplomatic trip to visit their fathers. If Sylvain was already here with her, and if he was this visibly distressed, then she must have slept again. 

“Four weeks,” he quietly admitted, moving to take her hand gently in his. The breath in her lungs escaped in a heavy wheeze as she felt like she’d been struck. 

_Four weeks. I’ve been sleeping for four weeks._ “Is everyone okay? What have I missed? What’s going on?” She tried to sit up, but her limbs felt so heavy, just as they had when she had woken up in the river. Even if she had been able to sit up, Sylvain’s hands pushing her shoulders down would have kept her still. He looked exhausted, the soft skin under his eyes was dark and there was a bit of stubble across his normally clean-shaven jaw. She had only seen him like this around the time when they went to go and confront Miklan. Her chest ached that she had worried him so much. 

“Don’t try to move too quickly,” he pleaded with desperate eyes, “Balthus is going to get Seteth, Flayn, Hanneman, and Lin. Let them make sure you’re okay, first.”

“Seteth!” She felt her eyes go wide as she grabbed onto Sylvain’s shirt, “I need to talk to Seteth!” Seteth had been in her vision of Zanado. Seteth was one of Sothis’ children! She needed to speak with him. She needed to know what happened. Why had Sothis’ children been slaughtered in the first place? Did anyone else survive? She had so many questions.

“You will,” he promised in a soothing tone, “but for now, you need to try and relax.” He used the hand that wasn’t holding hers to lightly brush some hair away from her face and ended up cupping her cheek as he tearfully whispered, “I’m so glad you are awake.”

“I’m sorry,” she whimpered as she reached up to put her hand atop his, “I didn’t mean to fall asleep again.”

“Was it Sothis?” Sylvain’s caramel-colored eyes searched her face, “Did she ask you to do whatever it is you did.”

The memories of what she had done were fuzzy. She vividly remembered the visions about Sothis’ children, and she remembered that Sothis wanted her to do something. She remembered Sothis’ original blessing, and singing Sothis’ song just as she did when the goddess had healed the destruction. Why had the land been destroyed in the first place? Had she renewed Sothis’ blessing? Is that why she fell asleep? Because of all of the magic she used? Why did Sothis have her do it? 

She ended up hesitantly answering, “It’s… complicated. I’m not completely sure why, it just—”

The door slammed open and Sylvain startled further away from her as Hanneman came charging into the room. “You are awake!” he shouted triumphantly, “I am so very glad!” Linhardt came into the room slightly after, less hurried than Hanneman was in his entry, however the wide smile that graced his features made warmth bloom in her chest. Felix followed impatiently after the green mage, craning his neck to look at her over his shoulder. However, he didn’t come further into the room as the others did, opting instead to stand near the door like he was standing guard. Sylvain waved him over, but the swordsman looked pointedly away from them, his hands twitching at his sides. 

“Byleth,” Linhardt sighed her name in a chiding tone as he started to crawl across the bed to take up the side that Sylvain wasn’t occupying, “you really must invite me to these little naps of yours. I feel so terribly left out.” She let out a broken chuckle as she reached out to take his hand. He looked down at their joined fingers as he murmured, “Though it has been quite interesting testing our theory, so I suppose I am content with that.”

“Theory?” she asked, brow raised.

“Linhardt came to me with an idea soon after you entered your restorative state,” Hanneman explained from where he stood near the tea table, “that if we perhaps got your Crest to flare, it would help your body to recover from the immense magical exhaustion you suffered after the events of the Red Canyon. We worked together to create a spell that allowed your Crest to flare, even when you are unconscious. We humbly feel it may have helped your body restore its energy faster than it would have with just your restorative slumber.”

A wide smile split her face as she pulled Linhardt down toward her, and promptly wrapped him in an embrace as she whispered, “You handsome genius, you.” He chuckled softly and hugged her back with an eagerness that was rare for the lethargic mage.

“I’m so glad you’re awake,” he murmured in her ear, “if only so Felix will stop ordering everyone around like some sort of evil overlord.” He pulled away from their hug, but didn’t go far. His hands lit up with healing magic as he slowly scanned her body. The healing magic spread through her, the sensation like sinking into a warm bath. She sighed in relief as it took the edge off of the heaviness of her limbs.

“Felix? An evil overlord?” she asked in an unsurprised tone, earning a snort of laughter from Sylvain.

“Yes,” Linhardt nodded, half-focusing on his words as he continued to scan her, “he was quite the exhausting taskmaster while you slept.”

“We had to ensure your safety,” Felix indignantly grumbled, though he couldn’t seem to look at them. He instead crossed his arms and stared toward the door to the adjoining office. She wondered why he was here if he wouldn’t even look at her. They needed to talk about their fight, so she hoped that he was just bidding his time until the others would leave.

She could hope, right?

“How do you feel?” Linhardt asked, ignoring the swordsman’s denial. 

“Tired,” she sighed, “though I’ve been sleeping so long, I figure I shouldn’t be.”

Linhardt shook his head. “We’ve been flaring your Crest daily for almost three weeks now, and you haven’t had food in almost a month. It’s not unusual that you would feel the effects of such things.”

“Do you feel any sort of adverse effects from the spell we were using?” Hanneman asked. Whether the question was posed to her or Linhardt she wasn’t quite sure. The Crest scholar walked over to examine her a bit more, while writing furiously in a journal.

“I don’t think so,” Linhardt mused, still using faith magic to scan her, “her body is still recovering, but I think a hearty meal, a warm bath, and a good night’s sleep should help immensely.”

Hannemann hummed as he tapped the feather of his quill to his chin, “That is heartening. It is also nice to know that should it ever happen again, or should the worst happen and she be gravely injured, we could continue to use it to help her.” She always thought it strange how they sometimes talked like she wasn’t even there when they got going like this. But they might be the only reason she woke up as quickly as she did, so their manners were the last thing on her mind. 

“It’s not going to happen again,” Felix vowed in a low voice. She glanced over to him and immediately noticed the tension in his features. 

“It’s nice that we have an option that can help her, just in case,” Sylvain soothed as he walked across the room to try and ease the swordsman’s distress. She tried not to show her surprise as Felix melted into his side for a quick embrace before letting go and putting a slight distance between them just as quickly. It wasn’t often that Felix sought out physical comfort, and it was made even more surprising with the fact that Linhardt and Hanneman were in the room.

The door opened again, and Seteth and Flayn entered the room in a rush of green. Flayn was quick to pull her into an exuberant hug as tears streamed down her face. “You’re awake,” she cheered, “I’m so very happy you are alright, Professor.”

“How are you feeling?” Seteth asked, obvious concern laced in his tone. She looked to him and felt more tears gather in her eyes, until they started slowly streaming down her cheeks. She brushed them away, embarrassed by the reaction when everyone was still in the room.

“I’m alright.” She looked to Lin and asked, “Did you need to ask me any more questions?”

“Several,” he replied, looking somewhat perplexed by her earlier display of emotion, “though I suppose I can wait until you are recovered fully. I should go and let Yuri know that you’re awake. The others are slowly being informed, as well.”

“Thank you,” she whispered as she squeezed his hand. She then announced, “I need to speak with Seteth and Flayn. Alone.” Felix’s jaw tensed and an expression she couldn’t quite decipher flashed over Sylvain’s features. “Thank you for all you all have done. I am extremely grateful to all of you. Please, try to get some rest, I’m sure you could use it.”

“Of course,” Hanneman nodded as he walked toward the door. Linhardt seemed to analyze her for a moment before yawning into his hand and nodding as he walked away. Sylvain and Felix were still looking to her like they wanted permission to stay.

“We’ll talk soon,” she promised as she looked between her friends, “There’s a few things I need to discuss with Seteth and Flayn, first.”

“We’ll go and get you some food,” Sylvain answered as he began dragging the reluctant swordsman toward the door. Felix still stared at her beseechingly, and she ached to apologize for the words she said to him the last time they spoke, but right now this matter took precedence.  


As soon as the door clicked shut, Seteth heavily cleared his throat and said, “There is much to catch you up on, the most important item being the response we received from Houses Gautier, Fraldarius, and Galatea—”

“Father,” Flayn groaned, interrupting his business-like tone, “surely you are not going to pile all of this responsibility upon her as soon as she has woken from such a sleep.” Flayn turned to look at her and prodded, “How do you truly feel? Is there any heaviness in your limbs? Do you remember what happened before you fell asleep? Are you hungry? Fatigued?”

She squeezed the young girl’s—or perhaps not so young girl’s—hand and shook her head. “I’ll be alright,” she promised as she slowly sat up and slung her legs off the bed. Once she was standing, she tested the fatigue of her limbs and found that she could walk on her own, if not a bit wobbly on her feet. She immediately closed the distance between herself and Seteth, pulling him into a desperate hug. He stiffened beneath her touch, seemingly unsure about what was happening. 

“I’m so sorry,” she wept as tears began to flow freely down her cheeks, “I’m so so sorry.”

“It’s alright,” the advisor grunted, lightly patting between her shoulder blades with a clearing of his throat, “We’ll catch you up on everything that went on while you—”

“No, Cichol,” the name fell from tongue naturally as she squeezed him tighter. He truly was the emerald dragon she had seen that first day in his office. Sothis must have been trying to give her a clue, she just couldn’t understand it until this moment. “I’m sorry for all you’ve been through. I’m sorry for all you have lost.” Seteth—Cichol—let out a shuddering breath and she squeezed tighter still. “Sothis showed me all of it. She showed me Zanado as it once was when it was your home, and she showed me your brothers and sisters. And… she showed me the slaughter—the reason it’s called the Red Canyon. You are her child,” she sniffled, “You are hers.”

She pulled away slightly and took in Cichol’s forlorn features as she wiped away a single tear that had begun to make its way down his cheek. She reached up slowly until she touched the circlet buried in his emerald hair, and when he nodded hesitantly, she carefully lifted it away. She pushed back his hair to reveal his pointed ears, a trait he shared with Sothis and the rest of her children. The feeling of connection—whether it was through the bond she shared with Sothis or something else she was not sure—settled over her again as she pulled him into another hug, one that he returned. 

“The others?” she softly asked. “I know you, Seiros, and Cethleann survived, but are there any others?” He tensed beneath her again and she pulled back to stare at him intently, “I just want to know if any of Sothis' other children made it out alive.”

“Indech and Macuil survived,” he hesitantly confessed, “though they are both in hiding, and I feel I am not at liberty to share their locations. It is simply not my information to share.”

“I understand,” she nodded, a slight smile pulling at the corner of her lips. Knowing that there were a few of Sothis’ children still living brought a sense of peace that she could only compare to when she first saw all of her students were still alive. 

She turned to Flayn—Cethleann—and wiped away the tears streaming down her face. “Cethleann…” she whispered, making the poor girl shake with a broken sob, “you have also suffered a lot, haven’t you?”

“I can’t tell you what a relief it is that you know,” the poor girl wept, burying her head in Byleth’s shoulder, “It has been so painful to keep it from you.”

“I understand why you kept it from me,” she assured, looking over her shoulder to make sure Cichol knew how she felt as well, “You’ve been keeping these secrets for centuries. I can’t imagine what that has been like. But now… now I need to know everything.” Cichol sighed heavily as weariness seemed to age him in an instant. 

He sank down to sit at a chair near the tea table with his head bowed. When he lifted it again, the sorrow written across his features threatened to cut her in two. “Do you remember what I said to you that day at the Rhodos Coast, almost five years ago?” he asked, the sorrow in his features thick in his tone.

“You told me a lot that day…” she hesitantly replied.

“I am speaking of the question I asked you,” he prompted, “When I asked if you were truly ready to learn all I can tell you. I should preface by saying that I do not know everything, but I can tell you what I do know. The trouble is… what I have to say will doubtlessly have direct consequences on your life. Once I tell you, you cannot go back to a state of ignorance. Cethleann and I can do our very best to help you, but if you have regrets, we cannot take your burden away.”

“I don’t think I have much of a choice,” she stated as she sat on the bed. Her legs still felt fatigued, and standing was taking far too much of her energy. Cethleann sat down beside her and held her hand in both of her slightly smaller ones. Her features were conflicted as her brilliant green eyes flitted between her father and Byleth.

He nodded slowly. “I fear you may be right about that.” He placed his circlet back on his head, taking care to cover the pointed ears that signified his heritage, that signified that he was set apart from the humans that surrounded him. “I will tell you all that I know, but I must ask you to give me some time. As you’ve said, these are secrets that I have been carrying for centuries, and the weight of them has been heavy indeed.” 

She opened her mouth to protest, but he held up a hand to silence her as his emerald eyes became pleading. “There is still much to catch you up on, and we are scheduled to march toward Ailell to meet with Lord Rodrigue Fraldarius and his forces in five days-time. Allow me the time to ponder all that you need to know until we return, then I shall answer all of your questions to the best of my abilities.

He was right, of course. There was still a war to be fought, and she had been asleep for far too long. She used her free hand to smooth at a wrinkle in the silver nightgown she was currently wearing and reluctantly whispered, “Alright.” Her disappointment showed in her tone, though she was past caring now. 

Part of her had been expecting him to explain everything immediately, which might have been a bit selfish of her in hindsight. These were the answers she had been seeking since she awoke in the river, but she could sympathize with Cichol’s plight. To carry the weight of your brothers’ and sisters’ memory as you walked the earth with only your daughter as company for centuries, all while constantly being fearful of what would happen if others found out—it would be an exhausting existence.

“I know you are anxious to learn all you can,” Cichol assured in a calming tone, “but I beg you to be patient and allow me some time. Recover from your slumber, and we will speak of these matters soon.” He was quiet for a moment, and when he spoke again his voice was low and serious. “You must not speak a word of this to anyone,” he cautioned, or perhaps threatened would be the more apt description.

She met his emerald gaze as she promised, “I will never reveal your true identities, I promise.”

A knock sounded at the door and she looked up at it in surprise, before remembering that Sylvain and Felix had gone to get her food. Seteth moved to open it, leaving her sitting on the bed with Flayn. 

“Hey!” Sylvain greeted with obviously forced cheer as soon as the door opened, “I’ve got some food for you.” As soon as he stepped into the room, her eyes took in the tray laden with goodies as her mouth began to water and her stomach gurgled with hunger and desire for food. The redhead chuckled softly, and the look in his eyes as he stared at her made her empty stomach flip.

“Thank you,” she eagerly replied, standing on shaky legs to take it from him.

“Are you still…. busy?” he hesitantly asked as he looked between Seteth and Flayn, “I’ve got a very impatient swordsman pacing in the hallway, that would really like to speak with you.”

She looked between Seteth and Flayn, and Seteth shook his head. “I think we’ve discussed what is most vital at the moment,” the advisor answered for her, “Take the rest of the evening to recuperate and we will start preparing to march tomorrow.”

“Thank you, Seteth,” she nodded. He nodded in turn, and walked toward the door. 

“Sylvain,” Flayn chirped, “Would you place the Professor’s tray on the table?” The redhead eagerly took it from her and walked over to set it on the tea table. “I know a trick that might help your body recover a bit faster, Professor, if you would lie down on the bed.”

She moved to do so as Sylvain joked, “I’m going to get Felix so he’ll stop wearing a groove in the floor outside your room,” before walking out the door.

She laid down on the bed and Flayn sat beside her, taking one of her hands between hers. The healer began kneading softly at the muscles in her hand, as her own hands glowed with faith magic. Flayn continued the gentle massage up her forearms and biceps, and the warmth and energy of the healing magic slowly eased the fatigue in her limbs. Sylvain and Felix entered the room again, both watching with obvious anxiety as Flayn continued her ministrations on the other arm and both of her legs, pulling soft sighs from her as her body sank back into the bed in blissful relaxation. 

Why didn’t she get massages more often? Goddess, it felt good.

“Now,” the healer started in a soothing tone, “make sure you eat as much as you need to, and try to get some rest. I’ll come in tomorrow morning and do the process again so you can start training again, because I am positive you are ever so eager to get back into things.” She giggled affectionately, leaning down to give her another hug before waving toward Sylvain and Felix and shutting the door behind her. 

Felix moved to turn the lock on the front door as Sylvain came over to sit on the bed, chuckling softly as he looked her over in obvious amusement. Her head was pleasantly fuzzy from the healing magic, and she honestly felt like she could close her eyes and sleep for another week. Or maybe just cuddling sounded nice. Yes, cuddling sounded nice.

“You look relaxed,” the redhead teased with a bright smile.

“That felt really good,” she all but moaned, then it turned into a groan of exertion as she sat up on the bed. She looked to Felix, who hadn’t left the space near the door, as she said, “I’m sorry to keep you waiting.”

“What did you need to talk to Seteth and Flayn about?” the swordsman asked, finally walking over to stand closer to the lounger at the foot of the bed.

“He was telling me a little bit about what I had missed, including the fact that we are marching to Ailell soon. I also wanted to apologize for leaving him to deal with everything while I slept.” It was a lie, one that hurt to tell. However, she knew that these secrets weren’t hers to share, even if she did trust Sylvain and Felix with her own.

“We could have told you that,” Felix grumbled as he crossed his arms over his chest, though there wasn’t any real bite behind it.

“I figured there were other things that you might want to speak to me about,” she prodded, “like how your trip went.” She leaned her head on Sylvain’s shoulder and the redhead wrapped an arm around her shoulders as she asked, “How did it go?” 

“Why don’t you eat while we talk?” Sylvain suggested with a light squeeze of her shoulders.

She hummed in agreement as she walked over to sit down at the tea table, biting into a piece of bread with a soft moan of approval before digging in with gusto. There was pheasant with some sort of jelly, a hunk of bread, and a bowl of fruit. She wondered where all of the additional rations came from, but decided to ask later as she shoveled food into her mouth. Felix rolled his eyes at her—though he did snort in amusement—and Sylvain’s face was still split with a wide grin.

“Talk,” she urged between bites, “Tell me what I missed. How are your families? Did everything go smoothly?”

She didn’t miss the pointed look that Sylvain sent Felix’s way. They seemed to have a silent conversation amongst themselves, one that she wasn’t privy to, until amber eyes flitted away as they looked down to the floor. The swordsman looked unsure of himself as he shuffled on his feet and then looked toward the door like he felt the desire to flee. She and Sylvain were quiet as she continued to eat her food as quickly as she could.

After what felt like ages Felix slowly said, “I know you don’t want to see me right now, but there are things I need to tell you, and there is a lot I need to apologize for..." he paused and bowed his head, "...if I… could…” 

“I shouldn’t have said what I did, Fe,” she sighed, dropping her head to her hands, “Things have been so stressful for you and I know you don’t—”

“Stop,” he firmly ordered. However, when she looked up at him, he looked like he would be blown away by the lightest of breezes. For a moment, the Felix in front of her reminded her of the far more vulnerable Felix of her youth. It was something in his eyes, they seemed far less guarded than they normally did—especially since he and Sylvain found her a few weeks ago. 

She slowly stood and walked toward him, but he backed up a step when she got close. “Can I hug you?” she asked, taking another step toward him. She heard Sylvain’s footsteps behind her, coming closer to them.

“No,” Felix denied with a firm shake of his head. The hurt she felt must have registered in her features, because he rushed forward like he might give into the request, only to stop right before touching her, his hands hovering near her face. He looked so conflicted as to what he wanted to do, and she felt confused as to why. All of this was making her feel anxious. Part of her wanted to scream that he should just get on with whatever he wanted to say, but she knew stuff like this was hard for him.

“Come on, Fe,” Sylvain groaned behind her.

“That’s not what I…” Felix stammered, “I just mean… I don’t deserve…” He started his sentence multiple times before hissing, “You shouldn’t want to hug me.”

“What are you talking about?” she asked, a bit of her hurt and confusion leaking through her tone.

“You need to hear what I have to say,” he insisted again. His hands were fisted at his sides as he looked between her and where Sylvain must be right behind her.

“Then talk,” Sylvain prodded, closer to her than he had been before, “You’re making her even more worried, Fe.”

Felix groaned, “I fucking suck at this,” as he ran trembling fingers through his hair, pulling some of it from his already messy ponytail. He looked nearly as haggard as Sylvain did, though he had always hidden his weariness better than the redhead.

“Just tell her what you told me,” Sylvain coached, stepping closer to put a hand on her shoulder. She leaned against him without fully meaning to, the warmth of him comforting after all that had happened today. She had missed him so much, even before he left for the Kingdom.

Felix’s eyes narrowed at Sylvain, but after a defeated sigh the sharpness faded again. “You… died,” he quietly began, as his eyes dropped to the floor, “You were dead.” It was similar to what Sylvain had said just before he broke down, that first day she came back after her five-year sleep. It hurt now, just as it had then.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered, “I didn’t mean—”

“You don’t have anything to be sorry for! Stop apologizing!” Felix insisted with a brief, pleading gaze before looking off to the side again. “I… when you were gone it was just like losing Glenn again. You were this person that I trusted, that I looked up to, that felt larger than life, and you were just gone. It… it was this ache in my chest that wouldn’t go away, no matter what I did. No matter how much I trained, no matter how much I tried to push every thought of you away, it ached. It hurt so badly that I just… shut down. I couldn’t think about you, I couldn’t talk about you, I couldn’t even say your fucking name because any time I heard it, I felt the same as the moment Seteth told us you had fallen off that damned cliff.” The words were pouring from his lips as he frantically waved his arms, his eyes looking everywhere but at her. The vulnerability from before emanated off of him in waves as she tried to face the onslaught of his feelings.

“I’m so sorry,” she sniffled for what had to be the hundredth time. She was sorry, especially now that he was showing how much her absence had truly hurt him.

Sylvain whispered, “Just let him talk,” as he squeezed her shoulder.

“I’m not saying it to make you feel bad,” Felix groaned in exasperation, though she didn’t think it was aimed at her, “I just… I’m trying to explain. I was… it was easier to deal with all of it by being angry at you. It was easier to be angry that you had broken your promise. It was easier to be angry that you had left me alone,” he lifted his eyes, presumably to meet Sylvain’s as he stammered, “not alone, I just mean—”

“It’s okay, you can keep going,” Sylvain softly encouraged.

Felix groaned and put his hands over his face. When he lowered his hands and started speaking, his voice took on an almost dazed tone. “The night before my nineteenth birthday, I had a dream. It was… it was you.” He met her gaze for the first time in what felt like forever. “It was you right in front of me, the Crest of Flames glowing in front of your chest. You looked like you were sleeping, not dead in a ravine somewhere. And it… it was the first time I had let myself think about you in almost six months.”

She inhaled sharply, realizing what he was talking about. That was how the others had described the dream that asked them to come here, wasn’t it? But Felix had it early?

A growl sounded from the back of his throat as he continued, “But then it kept coming. No matter what I did, I kept having that same dream. Eventually I’d just turn and walk away because I couldn’t stand looking at you. A voice—Syl told me it was Sothis—kept saying I was ungrateful, and that I was a fool.” 

She imagined that the green-haired goddess had been trying to tell Felix that she was going to be alright. That she was, in fact, alive and would come back to him. However, she should have stopped if Felix wasn’t understanding. She wondered why Sothis continued to send him the dream if it was obviously distressing for him. She would have said as much, but she kept herself quiet, trying to follow Sylvain’s advice to let Felix speak until he managed to get all the words he needed to say out.

“I was a fool,” he whispered, stepping closer to her and meeting her gaze, “and I know I still am. When I saw you again, all I could think about was those dreams. All I could think about was you, sleeping at the bottom of a cold, dark river because I was too angry and selfish to come and find you. All I could see was how I had failed you, how I had given up on you. Even when everyone else had the dream, I couldn’t let myself believe you were going to be here. I couldn’t let myself hope. It was too… terrifying.”

“But you were here,” came out as a shuddered breath as his features twisted into something that looked like he was in physical pain, “You were here. You were alive, and I just… hated myself. I didn’t know how to deal with all of the _feelings_ that came from you being alive. I abandoned you again that day,” he looked up at Sylvain, “and I said things I never should have said.”

“You were right. Everything you said the night before we left was true. I’ve yelled at you, belittled you, pushed you away. I was… I was scared.” The last word came out barely above a whisper, as he seemed almost unable to admit it. “I had already lost you once, and I knew I couldn’t survive it again. I couldn’t. I foolishly thought if I kept you at arm’s length, it wouldn’t hurt as much… but I was an asshole. I wasn’t here to support you when things became harder. I yelled at you when you had to watch…” he swallowed heavily, “…you had to watch Glenn die. You even told me that you were scared it would make me hate you, but I was so wrapped up in my own feelings I didn’t even consider yours.”

Tears began to stream down his cheeks, something she hadn’t seen since they were children. It made her whole being ache to hold him, but she held herself back because she wasn’t sure it would be what he wanted. “I’m so sorry,” he pleaded brokenly, his words coming out through clenched teeth, “I know I’m the asshole that always manages to hurt you. I’ve let you down, over and over. But I swear I’ll never abandon you again. Let me prove I deserve to have a place by your side. Let me be your sword, and your shield. Let me prove I can be someone you can rely on. Let me keep you safe, because I can’t lose you. Not again. Please—"

His pleas were cut off as she threw her body into his, no longer holding herself back. He staggered backward a step as his body went still. “Don’t…” he practically whimpered, the word coming out strained with emotion, “Don’t just forgive me… I have to make it up to you… I have to—" 

“Shut up and hug me,” she demanded with tears streaming down her cheeks. He immediately clutched her tighter than he ever had before, his face was buried in her neck as one hand came to the back of her head and the other wrapped tightly around her waist. Her nightdress pulled uncomfortably at her shoulders and neck from how much of it was clutched in Felix’s fist, but she couldn’t find it in herself to care.

She finally had Felix back. A weight that had been hanging heavily on her shoulders since the moment she woke up in the river was finally lifted, and she couldn’t help the sigh of pure relief the slipped from her lips. It wouldn’t be fair to herself to say that everything could be mended with an apology—Felix had truly hurt her as he had continuously pushed her away. Knowing that he was doing it because he was scared helped ease the pain he had inflicted partially, but he had still wounded her with some of his words and actions. However, knowing that he was trying, and knowing that he was willing to be this vulnerable with her as he apologized, filled her with a sense of pride and warmth. 

Her voice was strained with emotion as she whispered, “I’ll always want you by my side, Fe, you don’t have to earn a place there. You are my oldest friend, but it’s… you are so much more than that.” He pulled his face away from her neck enough to look at her, still holding her tightly as his body trembled. She wiped some of his tears as she continued, “You were the first person other than Jeralt who truly saw me as a person. You were the first person to take my hand, and want me around. You… you made me feel, Fe. I don’t know who I would be without you. Without both of you.” She looked to where Sylvain had moved behind Felix at some point during their desperate embrace. He seemed to be hovering on the outside of it, like he wasn’t sure whether he should be there or not. She held out a hand, and when he took it, pulled him in. It didn’t take any coaxing before he joined their hug, stepping behind Felix and wrapping both her and Felix in his much longer arms.

“I’m sorry as well,” she began. Felix’s hand tightened slightly in her hair as he opened his mouth to stop her, but she put a hand over his mouth, which seemed to shock him into silence. “I’m sorry that I was avoiding both of you before you left for Faerghus. I’ve been so…” she shook her head, “this is all so much. Suddenly being Archbishop, trying to command an entire army when it feels like I was a wandering mercenary less than two years ago, not to mention everything with Sothis…”

She shook her head. “That’s not the point. I saw you guys that night in the training grounds and it was… it was confusing.” Both of their expressions became stormy, until she quickly added, “But I am so happy that you guys were there for each other when both of you were hurting. I’m glad you had each other when I couldn’t be there. If you guys love each other, if you get to be together, I can’t think of anything that would make me happier. I wasn’t trying to pressure you, or insert myself, and I know now that it’s not truly my business… I just want the people that are most special to me to be happy.” 

Her vision became hazy, and she shook her head with a breathless chuckle. “I’m sorry, I swear I’m not sad. I don’t know why I’m crying.” 

“You can cry when you’re really happy, too,” Sylvain whispered, reaching over Felix’s shoulder to wipe a tear from her cheek. There was something—some emotion that was past her comprehension—in his eyes as he looked down at her.

“I am happy,” she insisted, though there seemed to be some foreign weight in her chest.

Felix’s hand left her nape to reach up and move her hand away from his mouth. All she could focus on was intense amber as his calloused hand, hardened since she’d been gone, clutched her own. Unfortunately, the moment between then was interrupted by a knock at the door. His grip on her hand tightened as he pulled it to his chest. She thought she could feel the quickened beating of his heart, but her fingertips only grazed him so she knew it was only her imagination.  


Sylvain wrapped his arms around Felix’s waist and pulled the swordsman against him, giving her the opportunity to—albeit reluctantly—slip her hand from his grasp. The swordsman made a sound of protest and tried to grab her again with a pleaded, “they can wait,” but she shook her head with a small frown. She had been asleep too long. As much as she wanted to lock herself away with her friends, she knew there were plenty of others that needed her. She quickly ran her hands over her face and attempted to run her fingers through her knotted hair as she walked over to crack open the door, trying to give Felix some time to pull himself together again. 

“Hey, sleeping beauty,” Yuri cooed as he leaded against the door frame, “What did I say about warning me before you go all goddess on me?” There was a sharpness in his gaze, but she could see the fatigue and the worry that he had dealt with throughout the last month in the slouch of his shoulders and the tension around his eyes.

“I didn’t go all goddess on you,” she snorted in response, moving to embrace him. He wrapped an arm around her waist, half hugging, half not. “But I am really sorry I was asleep so long.”

“You most definitely did,” the lavender-haired trickster objected, “But enough of that for now. Your sleepy mage is down in Abyss whining that he can’t ask you a barrage of questions, so I’ll hold off… for today. I only came up here because I figured you would want to know that I took care of your meeting with your little friend.”

She tilted her head to the side and stepped away from their half-hearted embrace. “Little… friend?”

“Caspar and Balthus came with me, just to make sure everything went smoothly,” he continued, glancing over her shoulder pointedly. 

“Oh shit!” Her eyes blew wide as she ran a hand through her hair. “What day is it?”

“The nineteenth of the Pegasus Moon,” Yuri crooned, “but as I said it’s taken care of.” She grabbed his hand and pulled him into the room, slamming the door shut behind them and turning the lock.

She urgently asked, “What did you say to her?”

“What are you two talking about?” Felix sharply interjected. When she glanced over, he was watching Yuri with narrowed eyes and she had to bite back an exasperated sigh. It seemed her ornery swordsman friend still wasn’t fond of the trickster.

“I was supposed to meet with Hilda on the fifteenth, but I was sleeping,” she quickly explained before looking back to Yuri. “Now what did you do? What did you say to her?”

Felix incredulously murmured, “Hilda? Hilda Goneril?”

“She’s been in contact with Claude since we arrived back to the monastery, through a visit from Hilda,” Sylvain explained before quietly shushing the swordsman.

“Claude?!” the ornery swordsman all but screeched, walking over to place himself at her side, “Why have you been in contact with him? He’s with the Alliance!” She fought the urge to roll her eyes, already missing the soft Felix from only moments ago. His eyes were still a bit puffy as a reminder of what had transpired.

Why were there always so many distractions?

“Exactly,” Yuri drawled, “and she’s trying to win a war. She’d be a fool to not utilize the connection she has with the leader of a country that has potential to become an ally.” A smirk drew the corner of his lip up as he cooed, “Do try not to get your smallclothes in a twist.” Felix flushed slightly, but his eyes were narrowed and dangerous.

“Enough,” she huffed, stepping between the two, “can you please tell me how it went, and stop antagonizing Felix?”

“It’s just too _easy_ ,” Yuri whined, a wicked grin still curling his lips.  
“That should make it _less_ fun,” Sylvain countered, stepping closer to Felix almost protectively. Though she had a suspicion that he might be protecting Yuri from Felix, rather than the other way around.  
“You’re telling me you never tease him, _Loverboy_?” Yuri cooed exaggeratedly.

“I’m about to kick you out,” she warned Yuri, crossing her arms firmly over her chest. She knew Yuri liked to have his fun, but her friends had suffered enough over the last month.

“Fine, fine,” he sighed with a placating wave of his hand, “I met up with Hilda and told her the situation.” He pulled a letter from the inside of his cloak and handed it to her, “Here’s your “love letter”—Hilda’s word not mine—and I think we should send a messenger we trust to contact von Riegan as soon as we get back with the rebel troops.”

“Maybe Leonie and some of my father’s troupe?” she supplied. “They were working with Claude a bit while I was sleeping.”

“Traveling mercenaries that he’s already worked with in the past wouldn’t be looked at twice,” Yuri mused with a hand on his forehead, “That should be perfect.”

“Why are we sending Claude a messenger?” Felix asked, looking between them.

She walked over to place Claude’s letter on the tea table as she explained, “Because we’re going to work out a way to avoid Gloucester troops as we march on the Great Bridge of Myrrdin. We want them as an ally, so killing Gloucester troops obviously wouldn’t be optimal.” She paused as she ran her hand through her hair. “Claude is going to be uneasy about my most recent extended rest, isn’t he?”

“Oh, I didn’t tell her about that,” Yuri quipped as he tossed his hair over his shoulder.

“You said you told Hilda the situation,” she prodded with a raised eyebrow.

His grin was wicked as he nonchalantly explained, “Yes. I told her the situation of our plan to obtain more troops in the coming weeks and how you were away dealing with Kingdom officials to secure said troops.”

“You got Caspar and Balthus to lie to Hilda?” she asked incredulously. She wondered whether the “delicate flower” had seen straight through it. The young woman was certainly cunning, when she wanted to be.

Yuri chuckled knowingly. “When I explained to them that it was either telling a white lie or risking fighting her down the line, they were quick to understand the situation at hand.” 

Felix scoffed, “That’s manipulative.”

“It’s the truth.” She met Felix’s gaze so he would know she was serious about this. “The Alliance’s neutrality is fickle at best. As much as I know Claude would like to have us as allies, he also can’t do anything that the other lords at the Roundtable don’t agree with. If the Kingdom rebellion is being led by a “disgraced” prince bent on revenge and a commander that frequently falls into deep slumber, they are going to pick the more powerful option to try and maintain their power. If they ally with the Empire…”

“We don’t have a chance in hell,” Yuri finished for her, “even with Miss Goddess Blessed over here.”

“You don’t know what she’s capable of,” Felix argued with narrowed eyes.

Yuri met his gaze easily and countered, “Perhaps not, but war requires troops and supplies. Even with the extra crops from Byleth’s little blessing, extra troops mean more mouths to feed and more weapons to maintain, and we don’t have the resources necessary to hold out for long. You and I both know that the Kingdom has been struggling over the last five years. Galatea has next to nothing to provide, Fraldarius is still fending off attacks from the Dukedom, and Gautier needs to keep enough resources to defend the border without their heir. We _need_ the Alliance. We _need_ Claude von Riegan.”

“Alright, alright, we get it,” Sylvain said in a calming tone, putting a hand on Felix’s elbow until the tense swordsman turned to face him—facing away from the opposing trickster—with an exasperated huff.

Yuri waved and said, “I’ll get out of your hair for now,” as he walked back toward the door. “We’ll discuss more details of what you missed when we meet with Seteth early tomorrow.”

She followed Yuri to the door and stepped outside with him, partly shutting the door behind her. “Thank you for keeping things together for me. I really am sorry about falling asleep again.”

“I know you are,” Yuri sighed in an exaggeratedly put-upon way. “Things will be a good deal easier with you back in action, which I worry will be necessary for the coming march. Shamir is on edge about spies, and I happen to agree with her. We’ll be marching along Kingdom borders, and the former Kingdom Lords are all on edge. Besides, Hubert’s rat network is extensive—and that’s not even taking Cornelia into account.”

“You’re worried about the possibility of an attack while we march?” she clarified with a raised eyebrow.

“I’m saying we should be prepared either way,” Yuri affirmed with a short nod. “We’ll discuss how many troops you want to take and such tomorrow. Seteth was adamant that we let you rest for the rest of the evening, and I agree. You still look rough.”

“I’m just… tired,” she chuckled. Flayn’s methods had worked wonders, but there was still a part of her brain that begged her even now to go in and fall asleep. It would have terrified her a few weeks ago, but knowing that Linhardt and Hanneman had an option that could help her wake helped keep that anxiety at bay. She made a mental note to try and think of something she could do to thank them.

“A month-long nap isn’t enough for you?” Yuri cooed, encircling her waist with his arms as he smirked down at her, “Careful, beautiful, you’re starting to sound like your sleepy mage.” She rolled her eyes as she brushed some hair out of his face, paying special attention to a small chunk that had gotten caught in his lip gloss. 

“Do you want me to send Balthus up? Or I could try to take a night off?” he offered coyly.

“I have… no idea,” she sighed, glancing back toward the door, “I think I might invite Sylvain and Felix to stay over. They are both a little…”

He leaned forward and whispered, “Needy,” in her ear.

“Shaken up,” she corrected with a sad sigh.

“I’d put money on the fact that they’ll take you up on the offer,” he cooed in her ear, stroking her lower back with his thumb in a way that made her shiver, “but if I’m wrong, you know where to find me. It’s still not safe for you to be alone. If one of the rats caught a whiff of your condition, Vestra and his assassins might still come for you.”

She pushed him back against the wall, caging him in with her body. She crooned, “I could use some exercise.”

“Are you trying to seduce me?” Yuri teased with a devilish grin.

She murmured, “With taking out some assassins? You’d like that, wouldn’t you?” along his collarbone. 

He spoke in mock offense, as though she had insulted his noble sensibilities even though they had both done and said far worse to one another, “Is this your idea of foreplay, Your Grace?” 

She rolled her eyes at the title and pushed off the wall. “I’d like to think I’m flexible.”

Yuri sang, “Oh, I know you are,” and after one last smirk he turned with the flap of his cloak and headed toward the stairs.

She noticed it was late as she glanced out to the Star Terrace—the colors of sunset were starting in the sky. She took a deep breath before walking back into the room, not quite knowing what to expect. She found Sylvain and Felix sitting on the lounger at the foot of the bed, both watching the door as she walked in.

“Do you want us to leave?” Sylvain asked, his voice somewhat strained. Felix was still fidgeting nervously beside him, and she noticed as caramel-colored eyes flitted between her and Felix.

She shook her head as she walked over to stand in front of them. “Not if you don’t want to. I was going to invite you to stay the night… if you wanted.” They looked to each other and she quickly added, “But I know you both have probably been here way too much over the last month, so if you want to take a night alone, I can get Balthus to come and stay.”

They were still quiet as they looked at each other, probably having another silent conversation that she wasn’t privy to. The weight on her chest from before came back with a vengeance, and she put a hand to her chest as she murmured, “You guys can decide while I go and take a bath.”

She walked into the adjoining washroom and shut the door with a silent sigh, leaning her forehead against the wood as she fought against that discomfiting weight in her chest.

~Felix~

Yuri waved and said, “I’ll get out of your hair for now,” as he walked back toward the door. And thank Sothis for that because he was about to cut the obnoxious sewer dweller through. “We’ll discuss more details of what you missed when we meet with Seteth early tomorrow.” 

His sigh of relief that Yuri was finally leaving so they could get back to their conversation died in his throat because she followed him to the fucking door and stepped outside with him, partly shutting the door behind her. 

“She’s in contact with Claude,” he turned to Sylvain and hissed, “And you knew about this?!”

“She told me the morning after we found her,” Sylvain explained in a calming tone that failed to placate him, “He talked Joel into giving him the pack that Byleth had sent to Evergarden, so he had her father’s journal and whatever else she had in there. I noticed her reading the journal, and I think that might be the only reason she told me at all.” Something passed over his features, some mix of anger and forlorn that usually flickered whenever the topic of Byleth came up in their conversation. The redhead probably wasn’t even aware it happened. 

Also… Why hadn’t he thought of asking for Byleth’s things?

Of course, he would now have to worry about a sewer dweller AND a scheming Duke. Fuck him. For all that Byleth said they were the two most important people to her, they were obviously not in the circle of people she was going to with her problems. Yuri and Linhardt ( _the fucking lazy mage of all people!_ ) seemed to be the only two people she was going to with these matters. That was going to change, if he could help it. He didn’t want to be on the outside of this anymore. He wanted to be helping her with these things.

He growled, “Fucking schemer,” under his breath, and Sylvain huffed a mirthless chuckle.

“He asked her to come to Derdrui in his first letter,” he abruptly turned to face Sylvain with wide eyes, “I doubt he’s let go of the idea of having her on his side. He doesn’t want Edelgard to win, and he wants By, easiest way to fulfill those goals is to form an alliance with us.”

“He asked her to Derdrui? Again?”

The mirthless chuckle spilled from Sylvain’s lips again as he ran a hand through his tousled red hair. “Yup. Did you know he kissed her while we were at the Academy? In the fucking Goddess Tower of all places.” 

Shame and anger warmed his cheeks at the mention of the night of the ball. He turned slightly away, but it seemed his reaction didn’t go unnoticed. Sylvain prodded, “What’s that face for?”

“I was there,” he confessed in a low grumble. He sat down on the lounger at the foot of Byleth’s bed to wait out whatever interaction she was having with Yuri outside the door. He was actively trying not to listen, the pleasant tone of their voices told him it was probably flirtatious and thus incredibly annoying.

“You were where?” Sylvain asked, genuine confusion showing in the furrow of his brow.

“In the Goddess Tower,” Sylvain’s eyebrows shot up to his hairline, “I went up there because I hated the stupid ball, and I wanted some peace and quiet. I was up there for a while before I heard her footsteps…” he paused and looked down at his fists, balled up on his thighs, “then I heard Claude’s voice and I panicked. I hid behind a wall, so I heard the whole thing, but Byleth never saw me.” 

Sylvain puffed out a large breath and murmured, “Holy shit.” He dropped down on the lounger beside him, turning to look at him as he said, “That’s how you knew Claude had asked her to go to Derdrui. That’s why you were being defensive about it in Jeralt’s office that night after his funeral, the night By told us she didn’t have a heartbeat.”

He nodded, and opened his mouth to try and defend himself, but Yuri’s salacious, “Is this your idea of foreplay, Your Grace?” trickled through the crack in the door and promptly swept away his thoughts. 

Byleth’s scoffed, “I’d like to think I’m flexible,” had him dropping his warmed cheeks to his hands as Sylvain took in a sharp breath.

The nail on both of their coffins was when Yuri sang, “Oh, I know you are.” Sylvain choked on air and started coughing into his elbow, as he scowled at the floor wishing his gaze alone would somehow create a way for him to warp anywhere but here. 

When he heard the slight squeak of the hinges on the door a few moments later, he forced himself to look up. “Do you want us to leave?” Sylvain asked, his voice strained from the coughing he’d just done and probably embarrassment. 

She shook her head as she walked over to stand in front of them. “Not if you don’t want to. I was going to invite you to stay the night… if you wanted.” He and Sylvain both looked to each other at the same time, and Felix tried to figure out whether Sylvain’s look was pleading that they stayed, or if it was his own imagination. After a moment of silence, she added, “But I know you both have probably been here way too much over the last month, so if you want to take a night alone, I can get Balthus to come and stay.”

Sylvain glanced to her before looking back at him. The idea of staying with Byleth tonight sounded like something straight out of his nightmares, though there was a part of his brain that thrilled at the idea. That same part of his brain was begging him to stand up and pull her into his arms again—having finally been able to touch her like that for the first time in five years was doing things to his stupid brain—so he was trying to lock that part of his brain in a chest in the back of his mind so it would shut the hell up. 

They must have gone too long without say anything, because eventually she sighed, “You guys can decide while I go and take a bath.” She almost sounded… disappointed? Sylvain watched her as she walked into the washroom behind him, and Felix found himself staring at a point just over his broad shoulder, still wrestling a certain part of his brain into submission. 

Sylvain’s timid, “Do you want to leave?” brought him back to the situation at hand.

“You want to stay,” he stated, knowing full well that was the answer.

“Not if you don’t want to,” Sylvain assured as he brushed some loose raven-colored hair away from his face. Felix grumbled in frustration and ripped the pathetic excuse for a ponytail out. It was practically nonexistent from how much he’d been running his hands through his hair earlier, anyway. His fingers pulled at his scalp as he ran his hands through his hair to gather it together, but the slight pain helped him focus.

The part of his brain that he had ultimately failed to lock away supplied that someone needed to be here with Byleth either way. If Hubert or any of their other enemies had received word of her condition, someone could still be coming for her. If he were here, he’d be able to take out anyone who dared try to harm her. It also added that if he was here, Yuri wouldn’t be. 

“Fine,” he grumbled.

“We don’t have to if you don’t want to,” Sylvain murmured softly, probably trying to keep their conversation from being overheard. Felix could hear the water running in the washroom, so he sincerely doubted she would hear what they were saying. Regardless of that, Sylvain cupped his cheek to draw his face up toward his, planting a soft kiss on his lips. Honey eyes stared into his as he whispered, “We could go back to my room… have some time alone…” The whispered sentence rang with promise of other things that had heat coiling in the pit of his stomach. 

They hadn’t been spending as much time together with Sylvain’s constant vigil over Byleth and his own throwing himself into Byleth’s security. The only time he left the third floor since they returned to the monastery was to train or to catch a few hours of sleep before guarding the damn door again. It was sappy, but the thought of going back to Sylvain’s room just to sleep curled up together sounded pleasant. He hadn’t had a good night’s rest in weeks, and he missed the heat of Sylvain’s body when he did sleep alone.

_Goddess, who in the hell am I turning into?!_

“Someone needs to stay with her.” He attempted to feign disinterest, but there was a knowing glint in Sylvain’s gaze as he nodded.

Sylvain kissed him once more before standing and saying, “Well then… perhaps we could share your birthday present with her.” 

“You know I hate—”

“Yes, I know you aren’t a fan of your birthday,” Sylvain interrupted, with a put-upon sigh and eye roll for good measure, “that’s why it’s nothing fancy.”

His intrusive glare earned nothing but a cheeky grin so he eventually caved and grumbled, “Well... are you going to tell me or not?”

“Of course not!” His obnoxious best friend had the gall to feign offense with a hand over his heart, and merely sidestepped the light swing of his fist when he sought retaliation for his cheekiness. He had to admit that it was nice to see some of the sadness lift from his features…

Not that he would ever say anything like that out loud.

“I’m going to go get clothes to sleep in,” Sylvain reported as he walked toward the door, “I’ll bring your present up on the way back. Do you need anything?”

“Sleep clothes, if we’re actually staying here.”

Sylvain chirped, “You’ve got it,” and sent one last wink over his shoulder before leaving. 

Leaving him alone… in Byleth’s room. The water in the washroom had stopped, leaving an echoing silence until the faint sound of Byleth’s humming reached his ears a few moments later. Like a man possessed, he wandered closer to the sound, ultimately deciding to silently place a chair near the door to listen as she continued. She hummed the melancholy melody all the way through, twice, as he leaned back in his chair, letting his eyes drift closed for a moment. It had been so long since he’d heard Byleth sing, and he silently wished she would.

She went quiet for a few moments before calling, “Are you guys still out there?”

He cleared his throat. “I am,” he called back, “Syl went to grab clothes for us to sleep in. He’ll be back in a little bit.”

She didn’t respond for a moment, and noticing that he hadn’t locked the entrance door, he stood to do so. He was quick to stride back over when Byleth called, “I can’t believe you’ll be twenty-three tomorrow.” Her voice was melancholy, much like her song had been.

“You remembered my birthday.”

“Of course, I did,” she chuckled, “Who do you think I am?” 

He gruffly replied, “A busy woman who just woke up from a month-long slumber that has other things that occupy her mind.”

She scoffed at that. “Not too busy to remember the day you came to be,” she called. She laughed then, the sound echoing through the door as he stepped closer to it, unconsciously pressing a hand to the wood as they spoke. “You could almost say you’re older than me now, what with my not aging during my five-year sleep. That’s weird, isn’t it?”

“Age is just a number,” he retorted, though not with any sort of bite. He knew the topic was sensitive for her, with her questioning “what” she was. He imagined that was only becoming worse after everything that happened in the Red Canyon, and her month-long recovery. The conversation as to what had truly happened could wait, though. “The way I see it, I’ve only bested you once in a spar. You will be superior until I can best you regularly. That matters far more than age.”

She woefully sighed, “You and your never-ending quest for strength.” 

Heavy silence settled over them at that. It hung between them as he stared at the wood door between them. “You were right,” he blurted without thinking.

He heard the displacement of the water in the tub, and he assumed she was finishing up. She called back, “What do you mean?”

His hand still rested on the door as he confessed, “When you told me that you wanted more for me… When you told me that I should have other ambitions besides becoming stronger… You were right. I always regretted that I didn’t wouldn't get to tell you that.”

The door opened quickly and revealed Byleth in all of her wet hair, towel-wrapped glory. The smell of lavender—the smell he’d come to associate with her—invaded his senses. He forced his gaze to stay on mint-green eyes as they stared into his. She softly asked, “Then… what do you want?”

It wasn’t the first time she had asked him that. The night of the ball flashed in his memory—Byleth in her silver dress, hovering over him with the training sword pointing at his throat as she asked, or rather, demanded to know what he wanted. Her disappointment when his only answer had been to become stronger. Shame licked at his cheeks as he remembered the foolish wish he’d told her when she had asked what he would ask the goddess for. Funny… looking back he realized that the goddess had been in her head that night.

No wonder Sothis thought he was a damned fool.

“I want…” he swallowed heavily, trying to corral the clumsy words on his tongue and failing as he got lost in her gaze, “…to be strong enough to protect those I care for. I want to be strong enough… so I never have to lose anyone again.”

She nodded her head sagely, her gaze holding him in place. He knew this was a wish they shared, because she had always wanted that, ever since he’d known her. They were cut from the same cloth, both of them never stopping in their pursuit of skill and strength. Though, she had taught him much when it came to giving him a “why”, even in presumed death. 

She then asked, “What about after we end the war?”

He had to contemplate the answer to that for a moment. Eventually his mind drifted back to when his father asked him what he believed him, and he decided to go with the same answer. “I want to make Faerghus a place where people don’t lose their loved ones to a forced sense of duty and honor. I want to change things… I want to try and make them better.”

Her eyes filled with tears and, worried that he had upset her, he closed the measly distance between them and placed his hands on her shoulders. “What’s wrong?” he asked, worry evident in his voice.

“Nothing,” she chuckled wetly, blinking away the tears in her eyes, “I just… you’ve grown. I’m so proud of you.” The smile that split her face was blinding and breathtakingly beautiful. 

“I used to think that all I was good for was battle and bloodshed,” he quietly admitted, turning his head slightly in an attempt to avoid her gaze for a moment, “but… you and Syl… you make me want to be good for more than that. You both make me want to grow… to be better. I’m still going to screw up, but… I want to try.”

She hummed softly as she leaned forward and placed her head on his shoulder. The water from her hair soaked into his jacket, but he hardly cared. He hesitantly put his arms around her as she whispered, “I just want you to be happy. I don’t want you to feel like you have to keep people… keep me… at arm’s length anymore.”

He silently vowed that he’d never do anything to push her away again. He asked, “Are you happy?” After a brief pause, he added, “Does Yuri make you happy?” Yuri had already told them it was casual, but he wanted to hear it from her. He wanted to hear that she didn’t love him.

She pulled back from their embrace, reaching up to touch the wet spot she’d left on his jacket with an apologetic look. “Yuri and I aren’t like you and Syl,” she answered with a shake of her head.

“You don’t… love him?”

The chuckle that spilled from her then was hollow, and something about it made his chest ache. The ache was made even worse when she whispered, “I’m not sure I’m capable of being in love with someone. I can’t really give my heart to someone when I don’t have one, can I?” 

He was momentarily floored by the vulnerability in her features and the meaning of what she had just said. How could she possibly think something like that? She was one of the most loving people he had ever met, and she was only becoming more so as she became more and more expressive. His mind scrambled for an adequate response, but was derailed when someone attempted to open the door. A knock followed soon after, and Sylvain called, “It’s me!” from the other side.

Byleth nodded toward the door. “Mind letting him in? I’m going to get dressed.” He nodded, taking one last glance at her as she walked toward the wardrobe, before walking over to the door.

Sylvain smiled down at him when the door swung open, though it drooped after a moment. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” he responded, forcing himself to try and look normal, despite Byleth’s depressing answer ringing in his ears. 

Sylvain handed him his sleep clothes and placed a bottle of liquor on the top with a sly grin. He must have taken a bottle of the nicer stuff from Gautier. “Happy Birthday, Fe.”

He scoffed, “Getting drunk is your birthday present?” He couldn’t help smirking, even as he rolled his eyes. Of course, that would be Sylvain’s idea of a birthday present.

“We can pick up the tradition!” Sylvain all but sang. A wink accompanied, “Maybe we can get you drunk enough to have By carry you around again. I wouldn’t mind the show.” Byleth laughed from further inside the room, the sound bright and warm in contrast to the forlorn look on her face a few seconds prior.

His cheeks warmed at the imagery that prompted, making the redhead’s grin become downright smug. He grumbled, “First of all, tradition implies multiple years, and it’s been five since the last one. Second of all, that sounds more like a present for you than for me. I thought this was _my_ birthday.” Both Byleth and Sylvain laughed at that, making his cheeks warm even further until they felt like they might melt off.

Sylvain ran a knuckle against his cheek and murmured, “Blushing Felix is my favorite.”

“Hard to argue that one,” Byleth quipped, “though sparring Felix has a certain charm.” He whirled around to glare at her, but found himself unable to when his eyes landed on a black lace camisole top with black lace trimmed shorts doing absolutely nothing to cover scarred, pale skin.

“You have clothes,” Sylvain quietly commented, still standing frozen in the doorway. Felix thought what she was wearing hardly counted as clothes, but didn’t bother stating such a thing out loud.

“Courtesy of Hilda and Claude,” she explained as she walked over to the tea table to pick up Claude’s supposed “love letter”. “There’s normal clothes too, I just haven’t really had the opportunity to wear them yet. I got them the day before Zanado.”

His voice was at a higher register than he wanted it to be as he exclaimed, “Claude bought you _clothes_?!” What? The schemer was going to lavish her as he tried to woo her to stay by his side? Did he really think she could be bought like some common woman? Did he even know who he was dealing with?

“I told Hilda all of my stuff was destroyed, and she then manipulated Claude into bankrolling her shopping spree,” she clarified as she ripped open the letter. “Seteth technically got me clothes as well, but I refuse to wear all the white gowns he got. That was Rhea’s style, not mine.”

Sylvain finally shook off whatever reaction seeing Byleth’s pathetic excuse for sleep clothes earned, because he pushed him further into the room before shutting and locking the door behind them. “Does Claude have anything interesting to say?”

“He’s pouting that I’m not coming to Derdrui… asking that we help him sway Count Gloucester so we can officially become allies… trying to weasel information out of me… the usual.” She smirked up at them before focusing back on the letter.

Sylvain chuckled (it sounded terribly fake) and then asked, “Mind if we use your washroom to get cleaned up?”

“Go for it,” she waved toward the door without looking up at them. 

Sylvain pulled the bottle of liquor from off his pile of clothes and set it on the tea table with the three small glasses he’d wrapped up in his own sleep clothes. The redhead then proceeded to grab his hand and pull him toward the washroom. 

Sylvain whispered, “What happened?” as soon as he shut the door behind them. He then immediately began pulling off his clothes so he could change.

“Byleth said… something… it was…” Sylvain looked up at him quizzically and he sighed before finishing, “She said that she doesn’t think she has the ability to be in love with someone because she doesn’t have a heart.”

Sylvain froze, bent over as he was pulling his pants up over the scarred skin of his legs and looked up at him with wide eyes. “She said… what?”

“I know,” he scoffed, crossing his arms in front of his chest, “She loves everybody far too easily if you ask me. Even when she hardly knows someone, she has the tendency to be willing to give her arm and leg for them. How could she think that she couldn’t be in love with anybody?”

“Emotions are still hard for her,” Sylvain woefully sighed, finishing dressing himself before working on his buttons and clasps. He attempted to bat away the redhead’s hands, but he persisted. “Remember when she got to the monastery? That may feel like forever ago for us, but it’s not very long ago for her.” Felix nodded, pondering how true that actually was. For Byleth, her first time even smiling had to only feel like a few months ago. If he had been unable to acknowledge how he was feeling about Sylvain, after most likely having been infatuated with him for practically their whole lives. Who was he to judge?

Felix looked up at Sylvain’s concentrated features as he worked on undressing him. There was a moment of comfortable silence between them before Sylvain whispered, “I wonder if she would even know what she was feeling if she was in love with someone.” He finally stripped his last layer, pulling his black turtleneck up over his head, and lightly ran his fingers over the scar on his side. Felix had many scars, but Sylvain seemed to fixate on the one from Remire quite often, and he felt a pang of guilt for not realizing how much that night had affected him until recently.

Perhaps it was the vulnerability left over from his apology to Byleth that had him quietly confessing, “I didn’t.” His hands found themselves on the taller man’s hips, twisting his fingers in and out of the fabric.

Sylvain’s honey eyes lit up while a soft smile graced his beautiful features. Sylvain leaned down to purr in his ear, “You can’t go saying things like that when we have places we need to be.” He then grabbed his button-up sleep shirt from the counter behind his back and began buttoning it slowly, touching his skin far more than was necessary for such a task. 

“Are you always going to get hot and bothered when I say nice things to you?” Felix scoffed, “Because I can be mean instead.”

Sylvain finished buttoning the last button—he didn’t want to linger on the reason why his lover was so good and dressing and undressing people—and then teased, “That’d probably work for me, too, so we probably shouldn’t try it.” 

He rolled his eyes as he snickered, “You’re insatiable.”

Sylvain laughed brightly, the pleasant sound echoing slightly in the tiled room, before walking toward the door. Just before opening it, he turned back to him and whispered, “I can’t help the fact that I’ve been pining after my ridiculously hot swordsman best friend for years. I’ve got years’ worth of watching from afar to make up for, ya know.” He then left him in the washroom, flushing and flustered, as he went out to greet Byleth. 

_That asshole._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dear Sothis, we've finally done it!!!! (Sighs in relief even as I bang my head against a wall because HOLY SHIT we're on chapter 20 and we haven't even gotten to Ailell yet!) Hopefully none of you were expecting this to be a short fic... cuz that aint what's happening here. My muse has whispered several things in my ears, and this is going to be a LONG HAUL.
> 
> Felix and Byleth have finally made up! (HOORAY!) Sylvain is beyond thrilled, if y'all can't tell. This was kind of a part one for the night. Next chapter will be Sylvain's perspective on the rest of the evening, and a bit of the important stuff before we finally march to Ailell. I want to write a bit more fluff for my protagonists before the war starts in earnest. They've earned it, as have you guys.
> 
> Also CICHOL and CETHLEANN have entered the playing field! Say WHAT?! I initially wrote a tell-all from Cichol for this chapter, but it felt like a lot to expect from the woman who just woke up from a coma and the over one-thousand years old dragon dude that's been keeping all of this locked away for centuries. The truly important thing here is that Seteth is back in the trust circle, and Flayn is more than overjoyed. Will we see other members of the dragon fam? **cough cough** Indech **cough cough** Who knows?
> 
> Just kidding. I know.
> 
> As always, kudos and comments are appreciated. This month has been... killer... for many reasons. I know a lot of people are struggling right now, and I hope all of you are being safe and finding ways to stay sane. Even the simplest of comments does wonders for me, just as I'm sure other writers on these platforms appreciate them. As always, thank you for reading. I appreciate you all being willing to join me on this messing roller coaster ride.
> 
> I just love these goofballs <3


	21. I Will Love You Without a Single String Attached

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Chapter title pulled from "Two" by Sleeping at Last. (Basically Sylvain's theme-song for this story. It breaks my poor little heart.)
> 
> Byleth tells Sylvain and Felix a little more about what happened in the Red Canyon before they take a night to catch up. Sylvain gets Felix to open up about an issue he's been struggling with, and they have an odd encounter.

~Sylvain~   
  


Leaving Felix flustered in the washroom was a satisfying experience, one that he hoped would happen again and again as their relationship continued because OH BOY was it fun. He chuckled softly to himself as he walked back out into Byleth’s bedroom, and noticed that she was still looking over Claude’s letter with a furrow in her brow.

He poured a glass of his father’s finest liquor—he had stolen a few bottles from Gautier’s cellars before they headed back to the monastery, in effort to avoid Byleth’s cheap taste in alcohol—and plodded toward the bed. “Everything okay?”

“It’s fine,” she sighed putting the letter down on her lap. He could see Claude’s scrawled handwriting across the page, but stopped himself from reading any of it, for Byleth’s privacy. (Even though it was terribly tempting to know what Claude was saying in effort to win her over.) She ran a finger over the looped signature at the bottom as she admitted, “I just wish I was around to try and help Claude. Hilda told me he’s having a hard time keeping everything together in the Alliance, and I feel bad.” He held out the glass he had poured for her, and she took it eagerly with a softly spoken, _thank you_.

“I’m sorry, By.” And he truly was. Not necessarily for Claude, but more so for Byleth. He knew that she genuinely cared about Claude, and she had been friendly with many of the Golden Deer students while they were at the monastery, even if most of them never officially joined the Blue Lion house. It wasn’t uncommon to see her brawling with Raphael, or having dinner with Hilda, Marianne, and Claude. Lorenz often invited her to tea—often including Ferdinand from the Black Eagles—and she always went out of her way to ask Ignatz about his latest project. She had even bonded with the normally tempestuous Lysithea, (He vividly remembers the time that he tried to pay her a genuine compliment about her drive and her skill in magic, and she ended up threatening to use him as target practice. He wasn’t even hitting on her or anything! He was just trying to be nice… so she might help him with his reason magic.) over their love of Mercedes’ baked treats.

It’s another part of what made this war so devastating. These were her students. She taught most of them the skills they were now using to wage war. He wondered how different everything would be if Byleth had chosen the Goden Deer or the Black Eagles, rather than the Blue Lions. He wondered who she would have chosen if she hadn’t been friends with Felix when they were young, and if she hadn’t met him all those years ago. 

Though… he probably wouldn’t have been alive to meet her at the Academy in the first place if she hadn’t been there to find him in that well. 

He shook that thought away as quickly as humanly possible.

She sighed heavily after she took a sip of her drink, a big smile blooming across her cheeks as she leaned further back into the pillows. He sat down on the edge of the bed and asked, “How are you feeling? Do you want to rest?” His tone held a sliver of his apprehension. He was overjoyed that she was awake, but his brain hadn’t quite grasped the fact that she was alright. After watching her wake up crying, and noticing how hard it was for her to move at first, he couldn’t help but fuss. Had it been this bad when she woke up in the river? The thought made the guilt burning in his chest even hotter.

As if she could see his spiraling thoughts, she placed her tiny hand on top of his and chided, “Stop worrying, I’ll be just fine.” A smile graced her features as she lightly teased, “Besides, I thought we were supposed to be celebrating.” Felix snorted from somewhere behind him, and he turned to watch the swordsman as he placed his sword on the lounger at the base of the bed. It seemed the whole “Sword and Shield” role was still underway. He idly wondered how long it would take for it to drive Byleth crazy. He’d put money on the fact it wouldn’t take long.

“Asking Sylvain not to worry is like asking water to stop being wet,” Felix remarked with a smirk, then amber eyes flicked to his as he teased, “You’re worse than my mother.” The swordsman then walked over and poured two glasses, before walking over to hand him one. It was the kettle calling the pot black—Felix worried just as much as he did, if not more—but he decided to let it slide in favor of appreciating the comfortable air that had settled between the three of them.

Byleth snickered into her glass as she took another sip. He wondered if she thought Felix was being a hypocrite, as well. Some of the mirth faded as she hesitantly asked, “How is your mother? And your father? Are they well?”

Felix huffed out a breath and took a long drink. “They send their regards. My mother worries over you, and my father is only bringing the troops because he wishes to greet you personally.”

“Really?” Byleth asked. She looked so pleasantly surprised that it was ridiculously endearing. 

“Of course,” Felix scoffed with a roll of his eyes, “They were both heartbroken when you didn’t arrive in Fraldarius with the rest of us after the fall of the monastery. It’s hard to decide whether the old man was more excited about the boar being alive, or you.” He shook his head, “Actually, it’s not hard. The boar definitely wins out, but it’s by a slim margin.” 

Byleth chuckled, though her eyes took on a sad gleam at the unspoken element of her extended sleep and their grief at her supposed passing. Felix moved to sit on the other side of the bed and looked to the opposite wall of the room as he murmured, “My father was disappointed that he wouldn’t be bringing the troops all the way to the monastery. He told me he wished to pay his respects to Jeralt.”

She whispered, “That’s kind of him.” Her eyes fell to her glass as she swirled the liquid for a moment. “I’ll have to stop by and place some flowers for my father and Sitri tomorrow. It’s been a while.”

He put a hand on her leg, and stroked the soft skin gently with his thumb. “Ashe and Bernadetta have been down there almost every day tending to Dedue’s flowers and replacing the ones on your parent’s grave when they dry out. Your parents have been taken care of.”

“Oh,” she sniffled as her eyes became misty, “That’s sweet of them. I’ll have to think of something to thank them.” She cleared her throat and looked back up at them. “Should I go and see everyone tonight? I hate that I worried everyone.”

He shook his head lightly, before patting her leg and pulling back his hand. “I ran into several people when I was heading to the dormitories, and I told them that you are awake, but still recovering. You can worry about all of that tomorrow, for now you should rest.” 

Balthus, Caspar, and Catherine had been quick about getting the word spread that she was awake. There had been a crowd of former students and friends at the bottom of the stairs when he hit the landing on the second floor, not that he would tell her that. Everyone had been understanding, though some had grumbled more than most. He had to forcefully send Balthus away, assuring the massive brawler that he and Felix could watch over her for the night.

It was Felix who finally asked the question that he had been hesitant to. He sat cross-legged on the bed and asked, “What… happened?” Byleth sighed heavily and moved passed him to refill her glass, topping off both his and Felix’s, before placing the bottle on the side table next to the bed. At Byleth’s reluctance, Felix prodded, “Yuri told us about your vision about Rhea being Seiros, and Seteth guessed that you had renewed some blessing that Sothis placed forever ago.”

Byleth’s eyes misted over again, before she closed them and took another drink. When she opened them there was so much sadness there that he couldn’t stop himself from moving to sit beside her, and draping his arm over her shoulders. She moved closer to him as she softly said, “It’s… the history of the church is wrong. I don’t know what Rhea—” she shook her head, “—what Seiros was thinking.”

After a moment of tense silence, he asked, “What do you mean?”

She looked between them as she explained, “Seiros isn’t some saint that Sothis blessed, she’s Sothis’ daughter.” Both he and Felix seemed sufficiently floored by the complications that that posed, but she continued. “Sothis had many children. They lived in Zanado, over a thousand years ago.” Her eyes filled with fury, sufficient to make him feel terrified, even though he knew Byleth would never hurt him. It was similar to the face she used to make before her final confrontation with Kronya. Thinking about those days still makes a chill go down his spine. Her sadness and fury were heartbreaking and terrifying in equal measures.

Her next words are gritted out through clenched teeth, and even with the fury, it sounded like it hurt her to say them. “Nemesis… he killed all but one of them. He slaughtered men, women, and children. That is why Zanado is called the Red Canyon. That’s what Sothis showed me.” The mental images that produced were enough to make him feel nauseous. Felix didn’t look like he was faring much better. No wonder she woke up crying, she was probably remembering everything she’d seen.

Felix hesitantly began, “So, when Seiros killed Nemesis…”

Byleth finished in a near growl, “It was vengeance for her brothers and sisters. Nemesis took everything from her, and she said as much when she stabbed him over and over, long after he was dead.” 

He incredulously asked, “Why would Nemesis kill the goddess’ children if she was the one who granted him the Sword of the Creator?” The sword granted so much power to the one who wielded it. Byleth was nearly unstoppable in battle, and it was well-known that it could stand against any of the other Relics. What would have motivated him to turn against the person who gave him such power? Especially if Sothis was a benevolent goddess like everyone seemed to think she was?

Byleth’s green eyes flicked toward the sword in question, which was leaning against the wall near the chest that bore the Shield of Seiros. This was one of those moments where his brain brought up the fact that it was so _strange_ to be friends with Byleth. Never in his life would he have guessed that he would be here, just… casually discussing the goddess and staring at holy weapons and shields wielded by not-so long dead Saints and warriors. “I have no idea. It’s just another question to ask Seiros when I find her.”

Felix sharply asked, “Can you even trust her?” Sylvain looked over to him and startled at the amount of rage in his features. He wondered if the red-hot fire in the younger man’s amber eyes is only in his mind, or if the swordsman’s rage-filled passion truly shows through like that. “She tried, or is _trying_ , to use you as a vessel for her dead mother. I don’t think you should go anywhere near her. _Ever_. She can rot wherever she is, for all I care.” 

“I…” Byleth opened and shut her mouth a few times before dropping her head to cover her eyes with her free hand, “I don’t know. I can’t just leave her in Enbarr.”

Felix countered, “We don’t know for certain that she’s in Enbarr,” before petulantly asking, “And also, why the hell not?!”

“Because she’s Sothis’ daughter!” The cry came out in a desperate yell that startled all three of them. Byleth took a steadying breath and put her hand over her chest, where her heart should beat, but didn’t. “I can’t… I can’t explain it. Sothis is part of me, and that part of me knows Seiros as her daughter. When I watched her kill Nemesis… the loss that I felt…” A tear streamed down her cheek and he wiped it away before pulling her closer to him. 

He couldn’t imagine what it must feel like to be in Byleth’s place. She was looked upon as a vessel of the goddess herself, which was troubling in its own right, but it only made it more complicated that she genuinely loved Sothis. To think that this person that she loved and lost was actually the goddess who looked over Fodlan, who had sons and daughters of her own, and had her own life? What must it be like to be fused with such a being? What must it be like, knowing there are two parts to you? To know that one part of you is something you don’t truly understand? And who was he—Sylvain Jose Gautier, no-good philanderer extraordinaire—to hold her? Let alone love her as he so obviously did? 

He pushed the thought away before it could make itself comfortable in that part of his mind that still struggles with being here—with his friends who genuinely care for him. The part of his mind that still struggles with the fact that he’s alive, and _happy_.

Byleth had to pull herself together, but once she did, she admitted, “Don’t get me wrong, I’m not overly fond of Rhea and the things she has done. But… I can’t just leave her. I won’t. I know Edelgard has her, even if I don’t know why she’s is keeping Rhea alive. It doesn’t make any sense if her war is with the Church of Seiros.”

“Because the war isn’t about the Church of Seiros anymore,” Felix groused, his jawline looked downright regal as he raised his chin in defiance, even though the emperor was far away in Enbarr, “She’s trying to conquer all of Fodlan.”

“I won’t let her,” was Byleth’s simple answer. He believed her.

Felix began to fidget on the bed, and he glanced over to see he was obviously debating with himself over something. Eventually he ended up scooting closer to Byleth, and she looked over to him as she took another drink. His tone was conflicted as he said, “I’m not trying to… make you feel…” he groaned in frustration and ran a hand through his messy ponytail.

“It’s okay for you to say whatever you want,” Byleth assured in a soft tone, “It’s just the three of us.” 

“Marching toward Enbarr is suicide.” The words came out sharply, but there was a flicker of unease from Felix before he looked down at the bed. Byleth sighed wearily, and he could have sworn he saw Felix flinch at the sound.

Byleth reached out to take Felix’s hand, startling him. “I know I said that you were criticizing and belittling me, but that doesn’t mean you can’t voice an opposing opinion. I just… don’t want you telling I’m a fool in the middle of a war council meeting.” Felix’s cheeks flushed and he wouldn’t meet Byleth’s gaze. He’d done that prior to the Imperial battalion’s attack on the monastery… many times.

She continued, “I value your opinion, and I agree with you…” Felix looked up sharply, his eyes wide, “…somewhat. We all know Dimitri is determined to march on Enbarr. And even if I commanded the Knights of Seiros to march on Fhirdiad, which I have considered, by the way, it wouldn’t do much without the heir to the throne.” 

Felix hissed, “The boar is going to get us all killed.”

Again, Byleth’s simple answer was, “I won’t let him.” Again, he believed her. Surprisingly, it seemed Felix did as well. His shoulders drooped as he nodded his head once in confirmation.

She hesitantly asked, “How is he? Has he… been up here at all?” Felix couldn’t seem to look at her as he shook his head no—though he couldn’t help but wonder if the swordsman would have even let the Prince inside if he had tried to come see her—and Sylvain’s chest ached when her face contorted with hurt and disappointment. 

He hugged her lightly as he added, “Ingrid and Gilbert have been watching over him, but I don’t think much has changed.”

“I still feel like all of this is a dream sometimes,” she confessed with obvious sorrow in her voice as she buried her face in his shoulder, “Like I’ll wake up and Dimitri will be back to normal and you guys will be young again. We’ll be here at the Academy, and everything will be like it was. I know it’s foolish…"

“It’s not,” he assured as he rubbed her back. He’d be lying if he said he didn’t wish for something similar, even if those months at the Academy were trying in their own way. Felix looked like he wanted to disagree, but he clamped his mouth shut without actually saying anything. It probably would have been an argument on how this is how His Highness always was without the “princely mask”. It seemed he was trying his best to be on Byleth’s good side.

Instead of commenting on the desire to go back to prior to the war, Felix asked, “What about the whole… “blessing” thing? Seteth said Sothis was asking you to go to Zanado…”

Byleth’s face was still mostly buried in his shoulder as she answered, “Sothis doesn’t talk to me like she did before.” She sighed and turned her head a little bit so her words were less muffled. Her eyes were half-lidded, and she looked exhausted. “It’s more like… a feeling now. There was this pull to Zanado, and when I got there it felt like…” she paused and pursed her lips before slowly finishing, “…home.”

She took another long swig of her drink before continuing, “I saw their happiness first, good memories of Sothis’ children as they dwelt in Zanado. That sense of familiarity… that sense of home… it accompanied those memories. But then it changed. It felt like something was wrong, or missing. And then I saw Sothis, flying through the air as she—”

“Flying?” Felix interrupted with a raised eyebrow.

“Sothis and her children were like Seiros,” she explained barely above a whisper, “They had human forms, and—”

Felix choked, “They were all dragons?” He couldn’t blame the swordsman for looking as aghast as he did—the thought that there was an entire family of dragons that once roamed Fodlan was disconcerting. However, what really concerned him was the sudden tension in Byleth as her features shifted to something carefully neutral. She shifted away from him, and instead sat with her back against the headboard. Was it because Felix looked scared? Was she upset that someone would be scared of Sothis’ children? Rhea’s transformation at the Battle of Garreg Mach had been terrifying, especially because they didn’t know that she was fighting for them at the time. 

She mumbled an affirmative as she picked at her nails. “I think Sothis felt like we weren’t safe without the blessing. I don’t know why, I just… did what she needed me to.”

“You have to be careful, By,” he urged as he turned to lean his shoulder on the headboard so he was facing her, “What happens if you fall asleep for five years again? Or more? I get that Sothis is asking you to do these things, but…” “ _I don’t want to lose you_ ,” seemed too selfish, even if it’s what he wanted to say. 

“I don’t… I can’t… really control it. But… I’ll try to be careful.” She looked to him with a soft smile.

She reached out to place a hand on his arm and exaggeratedly pleaded, “Now please… let’s talk about something else. It’s Felix’s birthday tomorrow! We should be celebrating!” It was meant to be dramatic, but he could see something desperate in her eyes. She really didn’t want to go into the topic any further. As much as he wanted to pursue the issue, he didn’t want to push her.

Felix seemed to be of the same mind as he huffed, “You two and birthdays,” into his glass.

“I wish I could have gotten you a gift,” Byleth pouted as she went to pour more into each of their glasses. The pleasant buzz of the alcohol was starting to work its way through his body, helping him relax a bit after the stress of the last month. 

Felix’s cheeks had a pretty flush as he looked away and murmured, “You’re awake… and you’re not mad at me anymore. What else do I need?” Sylvain had to resist the urge to “Awwwwwww…” with a hand over his heart because dang, that was sweet. Maybe not his version of sweet, but certainly Felix’s.

“I don’t know,” Byleth retorted, still pouting in that Byleth way of hers even if there was a hint of a smile in her eyes from Felix’s words, “I considered getting a new sword made, since the pommel of yours is pretty worn down after five years.” It seemed to be an unconscious thing for Felix to run his thumb along Byleth’s Crest on the pommel of the sword she had given him. He wondered whether Felix’s flush was from the drink, or the fact that she’d essentially called him out.

Felix grumbled, “My sword is fine,” crossing his arms in front of his chest. 

There was a knowing smile on Byleth’s face as she hummed, “I’ll have to think of something else, then.”

“Maybe I’ll finally get to spend a birthday with you,” he cooed exaggeratedly, flopping back so his head was on her lap as his legs hung awkwardly off the bed. She immediately began running her fingers through his hair, and he soaked up every moment of it. 

Felix scoffed, and he tensed up, realizing that maybe he wasn’t supposed to do things like this anymore. Had he gone too far? Would Felix be upset that he was lying on Byleth’s lap? He turned his head to look at the swordsman, and was slightly perplexed by his facial expression. Usually Felix wasn’t hard to read, and he was usually upfront about his feelings, especially if it was displeasure. It definitely wasn’t displeasure written across his features, though… Perhaps it was intrigue? Curiosity? He didn’t know.

Amber eyes met his, and he tried to figure out whether Felix was okay with this. Byleth hummed, “I thought I already had?”

“Sylvain’s just jealous that all he got for his birthday was flowers,” Felix retorted, a definitely smug smile on his face, “But I still think he was lucky he even got that. It was before you guys were... close.” Which was the kinder way to say it was back when he was still being an asshole.

“The red carnations,” Byleth nodded slowly, “I remember they made me think of you when I saw them.” A sly smile split her face as she looked down and supplied, “I could get you a gift to make up for missing the last few years?”

He put his hands over his heart and in a dramatic tone crooned, “As Felix so eloquently put it, ‘You’re awake… What else do I need?’” Felix punched his shoulder with an angry click of his tongue—which meant he had to throw out his arms to try and fend off further assaults, while Byleth chuckled in amusement and put one of her hands on his chest, near his heart. It was beating rapidly, but in a pleasant way that filled him with warmth. This was all he had been wanting since... well… a long time. He had to be the luckiest bastard in all of Fodlan… 

For real this time.

She whispered, “I missed you guys.” He didn’t think she meant the few days she was awake while they were in the Kingdom. 

Waking up, the first thing he quickly realized was that he was definitely hungover. He had probably had a bit too much to drink, but they had sat up talking for hours last night—until Byleth was falling asleep sitting up and Felix had forced her to go to sleep—and Byleth had pet his hair through most of the night, so he couldn’t possibly be blamed for getting carried away.

The second thing he noticed was that he was little spoon, which… never happened. Ever. Mostly because he was usually bigger than the person he slept in a bed with—Lin and Felix were fairly close in height, and it was really just the two of them. He groaned slightly as he opened his eyes, and the arm around his waist tightened. Felix was in front of him, hair absolutely wild with one arm above his head and the other draped over his stomach, so that had to mean that Byleth was the one spooning him. 

He had zero objections.

He ran his thumb lightly over the arm she had around his waist, and felt Byleth shift to sit up behind him. He turned to check on her, because she had most certainly consumed more of the liquor than he had, only to find her bright-eyed and bushy tailed. Which was not fair. At all.

He must not have looked too hot, because she chuckled softly, ran her fingers through his hair, and whispered, “I’ll go get you some water.” 

He groaned in protest and grabbed her arm to pull her back down. She giggled lightly at his antics, but obediently laid down on her back so he could lay his head on her shoulder and pull her closer. Based off of the light in the room, he guessed it was just after dawn. Byleth had to have a little bit of time before she had to be anywhere too important.

She put two fingers to his temple and started humming a tune as faith magic took the edge off of his headache. He sighed in relief before quietly grumbling, “You had more to drink than I did. Why aren’t you miserable, too?” Not that he particularly wanted her to be miserable, he just… didn’t want to be the only one. Felix had hardly had any, grumbling “ _I’m not going to be drunk off my ass when someone comes to try and attack Byleth._ ”

She began running her fingers through his hair as she whispered, “I haven’t been able to get really drunk, or have a hangover, since I merged with Sothis.”

He lifted his head to look at her, then quickly realized that the position was too close for their faces to be and dipped his head back down. “Wait… really?”

“I’m not sure why,” she shrugged, moving his head awkwardly with the movement, “Balthus claims I just need to drink more.”

He snorted out a laugh and grumbled, “That sounds about right.”

Felix’s sleepy voice groaned, “Why are you guys so chatty in the morning? Some people are actually trying to sleep.”

“Felix!” He made sure to draw out the swordsman’s name as much as he could in his most sing-song voice—not that it sounded overly pleasant with the croak of his “I just woke up and I have a slight hangover” voice—as he rolled over and pulled the grouchy swordsman into a bear hug. “Happy birthday!”

Felix made a meager attempt at pushing him off before sighing and just letting it happen. His grumpily mumbled, “Why are you like this?” was muffled against his neck. 

Still in his exaggerated sing-song he crooned, “Because I love you and it’s your birthday!”

The younger man dryly responded, “You’re ridiculous.” But he definitely felt the kiss the swordsman placed on his collarbone, where the top buttons of his sleep shirt were open. 

Felix tried to push him away again, but he held tighter and whined, “Cuddle me! I’m hungover.”

Felix tilted his head back, and a raven-colored eyebrow climbed up the swordsman’s forehead as he accusingly asked, “And who’s fault is that?” 

Byleth softly cleared her throat and Felix rapidly pushed him away at the sound, a lot more forcefully this time. He let go and rolled over to see her holding out a glass of water for him. When had she even left the bed? Felix scooted away from him, before sitting up and slinging his legs over the side of the bed. 

“Happy birthday, Fe.” She smiled that one smile that only pops up when she’s really excited about something—the one that is always beautiful and blinding. 

The swordsman looked at the floor as he mumbled out a, “Thank you.” He stooped to grab his sword from under the bed and then added, “We should probably get ready for the day.”

He wanted to whine, “Why are you both out of bed?” even if it risked him sounding like a petulant child. He was about to do it, consequential teasing be damned, but there was a knock at the door. Because _of course_ there was. Felix hauled him to his feet as Byleth walked over to find Flayn on the other side of the door.

Flayn’s bright voice chirped, “Good morning, Professor! Did you sleep well?” 

“I got a bit of sleep, yes,” Byleth hummed, a pleasant smile on her face.

Flayn saw them as Felix roughly dragged him toward the washroom by his wrist. She giggled slightly and waved, her eyes bright and cheerful. “I came to offer another session of that healing massage, if you need it.”

Whatever response Byleth gave, he didn’t hear it because Felix all but slammed the door of the washroom closed behind them. He was tense, and obviously perturbed about something as he hastily took off his sleep clothes. This suspicion that he was upset was confirmed when he hissed, “Get dressed, you fool.”

“Hold on,” he coaxed, grabbing his ornery raven-haired lover by the hand and pulling him to standing, “what’s going on? What’s wrong?” Felix clicked his tongue and tried to go back to what he was doing, but he held firm. “I can’t make it better if I don’t know what is upsetting you.” 

Felix tried to get away once more, but then, realizing he wasn’t going to let it go, he groused, “We shouldn’t be doing that in front of Byleth.”

 _What?_ “Doing what in front of Byleth?”

“Being all…” Felix huffed and waved his hand in the direction of the bedroom, like that answered his question.

“Cuddly?” he asked. Felix flushed and looked to the side as his arms came up to defensively cross in front of his chest. He hesitantly said, “I was just laying on her shoulder before you woke up, Fe. I don’t think—”

“That’s different,” Felix argued, still not looking at him.

Now he was actually lost. “Why?”

“Because you two have always been like that,” was Felix’s rushed reply.

That wasn’t necessarily true. Byleth was always more touchy with him because it was what he enjoyed—she’d told him as much, once. Though, he had always suspected that she slowly started to enjoy touch just as much as he did. Probably due to growing up as a mercenary with Jeralt the Blade Breaker as a father. The grizzly warrior obviously loved Byleth, but he didn’t scream “I like to cuddle with my daughter”. The most physical affection he ever saw between the two was when Jeralt would ruffle her hair like she was a child. “I wouldn’t say always…”

“You’re the one who slept with her after Jeralt died, and the one who was always touchy with her. You two have always been… cuddly.” He said the word with a hint of something like distaste.

“Is that… is that what’s upsetting you?” He had been scared of that after his actions last night. If Felix asked him to stop, he definitely would. He just… would prefer not to. Was that unfair? Should he be stopping anyway? Is he making Felix uncomfortable? Is he making Byleth uncomfortable?

“No!” Felix spat, obviously getting more upset. “I just… I don’t want… we shouldn’t…” He gave up with a frustrated sigh and turned away from him, showing off the fair skin of his back.

Sylvain pondered it for a while, going over what Felix could possibly mean, and then landed on one possibility. He stepped forward and slowly caressed Felix’s arms, not quite a hug, but showing he was there if Felix wanted more touch. “Are you scared she’ll feel… excluded? Left out?”

Felix spat, “I’m here to protect her, not make her feel like she’s some… third wheel.” The derisive tone was probably meant to cover the awfully sweet sentiment, though of course that didn’t work on him. “We’re already… together. I don’t want her to think that we don’t want her around.”

“Fe…” he cooed, slowly easing himself against his back without wrapping his arms around the wound-up swordsman, “I love you. You know that?”

Felix scoffed and lightly shoved him back with a pointy shoulder. He then quickly turned and walked toward his neatly stacked clothes on the counter, where they had left them the night before. “Just… get dressed, would you?”

“Wait.” His tone was a bit more forced, and Felix immediately turned to look at him with an inquisitive eyebrow raised. “Are you… so… you don’t care if I’m… acting… like that… with By?” Goddess, he sounded like Felix, stammering away like that.

Felix turned away and began pulling on those tight teal pants that fit just… ugh! Getting sidetracked. He stepped closer to the swordsman as he quietly responded, “No.”

He requested, “Look at me?”

Felix sighed and slowly turned to look at him, something brewing in his gaze. “I don’t care if you act like you always have with Byleth,” he stated in a forceful tone.

“You don’t sound—”

“I’m not going to give you physical affection like she will,” the swordsman blurted out, already looking wound up again, “You both like that, and I… I can’t… I don’t…”

“I know,” he soothed, not touching because obviously this was something that they needed to talk more about. Was Felix pressuring himself to touch him more? Was Felix beating himself up, just because he wasn’t as physically affectionate as he thought Sylvain needed him to be? “I know you care about me, even if you aren’t constantly touching me. You know that, right?”

Felix looked off to the side with the sweetest flush on his cheeks, so… that answered that question. “Look… lots of people have showed me “physical affection” without actually giving a shit about me.” Felix’s features softened as he looked up at him. “Physical affection isn’t everything. Knowing that you’re here for me, knowing that you care about me and want to keep me safe… that is what I love about you.” He sauntered closer until he could lean down and purr in his ear, “Not that I don’t enjoy making love to you. That’s lots of fun too.”

Felix shoved him back as he flustered, and Sylvain laughed at how easy it was to get that reaction. He pulled off his sleep shirt as he reaffirmed, “You don’t have to be physically affectionate for me to know that you care about me. The fact that you are worrying about it… that shows me that you care. Okay? You don’t have to tolerate me acting that way with Byleth because you think it’s going to fill some void that you’re leaving behind. If you don’t want me to cuddle her like I was last night and this morning, then say it, and I won’t.”

“Just…” Felix pulled on his coat, trying to finish dressing as they have this conversation, “… she needs someone… to hold her… when it gets hard. I know she does.”

He clarified, “So, when I’m comforting her, it’s okay?” 

“No! That’s not what I—" Felix grunted and pulled his hair back into his usual ponytail, “It makes both of you happy. I want you both to be happy.”

 _Not this again._ “You make me—”

“You always say that,” Felix interrupted with a weary sigh, “I’m not saying it’s the only thing that makes you happy, I’m saying I like seeing you look that happy. Both of you.”

He pouted his lower lip and put a hand over his heart. “Look at you, being all sentimental today!”

Felix fixed him with a scowl and hissed, “Get dressed, you bumbling fool.” _Ah, there he is._

“Yes, sir.” He saluted, which earned an exasperated eye roll from Felix, before he walked out the door.

Without the distraction of Felix being in the room, he finished dressing quickly. When he walked out, he surveyed the room and quickly realized that Felix wasn’t there. Flayn had Byleth on the bed, and was doing that massage thing again, and Byleth looked… completely blissed out. Like… holy shit. He might need to take up some faith magic so he could have Flayn teach him whatever she was doing because… _shit_.

“Felix went to wait outside,” Flayn called with a kind smile.

He swallowed heavily and answered, “Thanks.” 

It didn’t take long to find Felix—the swordsman was pacing right outside the door with a hand on the pommel of his sword. His eyes darted up at the sound of the door opening, but quickly went back to looking straight ahead as he resumed his pacing.

He leaned casually against the wall as he asked, “So… what’s your plan?” Felix stopped pacing and turned to look at him. “With the whole… ‘let me be your sword and shield’ thing.” Felix, of all the reactions, flushed more than he had seen in a good while. Which was intriguing, to say the least.

“I don’t know,” was Felix’s mumbled reply.

“She already hired Balthus to stay with her, and he takes that job seriously.” Felix shot him a dubious look and he raised his hands defensively, “You would know that if you let him talk to you for longer than two seconds. He’s fond of By, and he’s got some serious experience with assassins.”

Felix scoffed, “Chummy with Balthus now, are you?”

He shrugged. “I learned a bit about him while we kept watch. He’s a good guy. He’s super into Manuela, which is _hilarious_ for many reasons.” He scratched his cheek as he chuckled.

Felix crossed his arms as he grumbled, “I thought he liked Byleth.”

That startled another laugh out of him, which made Felix scowl. “I think everyone’s at least a little in love with By. She just kinda has that effect on people.” Felix rolled his eyes and looked grumpily off to the side, a haughty hand on his hip. He chuckled, “You can’t hold that against people… It’s By!”

“Whatever. It’s stupid to even talk about this.”

“That’s probably true,” he agreed. It certainly wouldn’t get either of them anywhere.

Then, barely above a whisper, Felix said, “I meant what I said yesterday.” When he looked to the swordsman he explained, “That I want to keep her safe… be her sword and her shield.”

He nodded. “I know you did.”

“It might mean that I can’t be at your side in battle,” Felix prodded, making intense eye contact as he walked closer. It wasn’t like he was asking permission, per say. Maybe he was trying to figure out how he felt about it, without having to have a conversation about it.

“I’ll be wherever she needs me to be,” he answered simply. He knew being a cavalry unit would mean that he wouldn’t always be able to fight near them. It had been the same way when he was a flying unit.

Damn, he missed Emery.

“And you aren’t going to be stupid?” Felix brusquely asked, stepping even closer to him. “You’re going to keep yourself safe? No heroics?”

“I can’t promise no heroics,” he joked, with a wink for good measure. In a reaction that he should have seen coming, Felix scowled and started to turn away. He knew how much Felix hated when he spoke lightly about getting hurt or dying in battle. It was just… reflex at this point. He stood up straight and somberly assured him, “I’ll have my battalion with me for battle, and I’ll do my best to keep my promise. I’m not going anywhere without you.” 

“Good.” Felix turned toward the door as it opened, and his eyes widened the barest fraction as Byleth and Flayn stepped out.

She was wearing what looked like a fancier version of black riding leathers, the fabric clinging to every curve and ending at her hips, fastened with a golden looped belt. Her top was a white button-down, similar to what they used to wear from their school uniforms, with the top few buttons undone, just like he used to wear it. A black cape was draped over her right shoulder ending at her hip, the edges embroidered nicely with gold thread. Resting beneath her collarbone was a charm fashioned into the shape of her Crest—the Crest of Flames. She looked gorgeous and regal, while still looking like her. 

He needed to congratulate Hilda the next time he saw the pinkette. 

Felix brashly asked, “Where is your armor?”

Sylvain just barely stopped himself from groaning in exasperation before he said, “She’s a church official, Fe.” Seriously, couldn't he just compliment her or keep his mouth shut like a normal human being?

“She’s also a prime target for assassination, _Sylvain_ ,” the disdain when he said his name was a bit more hurtful than was necessary, “I would think that’s more important.”

At the sound of some sort of knocking, they both turned to see Byleth’s shirt unbuttoned near her navel, and she was knocking on what looked like some sort of corset. “The corset is actually light armor. It wouldn’t work well in battle, but should be sufficient for walking around the monastery, surrounded by knights and former students who can come to my aid.”

“That corset covers absolutely nothing,” Felix scoffed.

Byleth started re-buttoning her shirt and rolled her eyes. In a teasing tone she said, “I like your new clothes, Byleth. You look nice, Byleth. Let’s go get breakfast, Byleth.” Sylvain snickered into his fist, turning it into a cough as Felix glared at him.

She argued, “Rhea never wore armor,” looking like she hated to use the woman as an example but did it anyway to prove a point, “and I’ll have Balthus with me. Now would you like to go and get breakfast with Flayn and I, or not?” Flayn giggled behind her and laced her arm through Byleth’s, looking thoroughly amused by the drama playing out in front of her.

“I’m coming,” Felix huffed, leading the way down the stairs without another glance.

“You do look nice,” he commented, his voice coming out a bit softer than he’d intended.

Byleth tucked a strand of hair behind her ear with a softly spoken, “thank you”.

Getting to the dining hall ended up taking far longer than expected, because every person Byleth came across wanted to speak with her. Whether it was former students or friends—Alois openly weeping into her shoulder, Caspar asking her to train with him, Ashe reporting on the astounding growth still happening in the greenhouse—or merchants and pilgrims that had started to make their way to Garreg Mach as word quickly traveled around Fodlan of the Knights of Seiros return at the call of the one blessed by the goddess. Byleth seemed slightly overwhelmed by all of the attention, but she handled it all gracefully. She waved to the pilgrims singing praises to the goddess with a soft smile, thanked Knights of Seiros who bowed as she passed, and promised her friends her time as soon as she had a moment to breathe. Obviously, that wasn’t how she worded it, but it was how Sylvain commentated in his head.

Felix was a steel faced guard through all of it, scanning the area like any of the people surrounding them could be a threat. He supposed that they could be, but he had a feeling things were going to have to change pretty soon as Byleth constantly asked him to relax.

They ate quickly, and Byleth told them that she was going down to Abyss to see if Yuri was ready to meet with her and Seteth about getting caught up with everything. Felix immediately insisted that he was going with her, and when she looked to him, he shrugged and trailed after the two of them. He had only been down in Abyss twice, but neither were particularly pleasant memories. Byleth led them to a place she called the Shadow Library, where they found Linhardt passed out at a desk, surrounded by piles of books. Byleth smiled fondly and went over to lightly tap his shoulder. He blinked open his eyes, and finding the three of them, sat up with a gaping yawn.

“Oh good,” he mumbled sleepily, “I was going to come and find you, and you’ve saved me the walk back to the surface.”

“I don’t have a lot of time to answer—”

“No, no,” Linhardt interrupted with a wave of his hand, “Not about that, though we will be having a conversation eventually. Actually, I was going to come and find you because I found something interesting last night, and I want you to read it and tell me what you think.” The sleepy mage mumbled to himself as he began sorting through the piles of books on his desk, until he finally found what he was looking for.

Byleth’s face lit up as she leaned over his shoulder, and Linhardt pointed out, “See this part here? ‘…the False God has awakened. Its looming, heteromorphic vessel was resurrected to sink the world to the depths of the ocean.’ Do you think that the goddess could have been like Saint Seiros? Having the ability to switch between a human form, and a dragon form?”

“She… was…” Byleth quietly admitted, glaring up at him and Felix. Obviously, that wasn’t something they were supposed to be open about. Felix cringed and looked off to the side guiltily.

“Incredible…” Linhardt breathed, quickly looked back down at the parchment, as Sylvain moved to look over his other shoulder, “What about this part? The text claims that Sothis was going to ‘bring extinction to all children of men, and salvation to all beasts of the land, sky, and sea.’ Apparently due to the fact that ‘the children of men… spilled too much of the blood of life…’” he paused and looked up at Byleth with wide eyes, “Did Sothis seem the type to promise cruel retribution? Maybe… the type to send a flood to wipe out all of humanity?”

Byleth furrowed her brow in concern and murmured, “Not that I’m aware of… not to that extent.”

“What an interesting way to word that response,” Linhardt hummed, tilting his head to his fist as he stared up at Byleth with a critical gaze.

“Anything else of interest?” he asked, lightly jostling the sleepy mage in an effort to get him back on topic.

“One other thing,” Linhardt murmured, lightly running a finger through the text before he exclaimed, “Ah ha! Right here. ‘The children of men fled to the depths of the earth, beyond the sight of the False God, beyond the embrace of the sacred sun, and beyond the reach of the waters of Despair. They swore a fervent oath of revenge against the surface world, ruled by beasts, and against their tormentor, the False God.”

Byleth had tensed like a bow string, her eyes narrowed and her jaw clenched. Linhardt, ever the perceptive one, looked to her expectantly. “That sounds like—”

“Well, if it isn’t Lady Byleth,” an unfamiliar woman’s voice called from the entryway of the library behind them. Sylvain quickly turned around and glanced over the woman who strode into the library. She wore long black robes, and her hat was adorned with a mourning veil, making it hard to see her face. She was small and unassuming, though the fact that he couldn’t see her facial expressions was slightly unnerving.

“Maggie,” Linhardt lazily greeted, “How are the children?”

“Fine, fine,” she answered somewhat dismissively, “Though I’m glad to have caught you, archbishop.”

“Byleth is fine,” Byleth interjected, though she still seemed on edge. He wondered whether it was due to what they had just read, or the woman in front of them. 

“Byleth,” the woman—Maggie—said her name slowly, like she was tasting each sound. “Well, Byleth, I heard whispers of orphans that the Knights of Seiros have taken under their wing up on the surface.”

“A former professor at the Academy and some of my former students were really the ones to take them in,” Byleth explained with a wave of her hand, “We are trying to help as much as we can, though we lack some of the necessary resources.”

The woman hummed in acknowledgement before saying, “I had hoped to meet with you as soon as I heard, but I haven’t seen you in Abyss for some time. There were also murmurs that you hadn’t been seen on the surface lately, either. I was beginning to worry for your health.” Felix stiffened minutely, as his eyes narrowed on the woman. 

“Oh?” Byleth asked as she lifted an eyebrow inquisitively, “Well, I am here now, and I assure you I’m in good health. I appreciate the concern. How can I help you?” 

“I wondered if we could set up a way that the children of Abyss and the orphans currently taking refuge at the monastery could learn together,” Maggie answered in an even tone, “It would be good for the children, and it might help to conserve resources.”

“That’s a wonderful idea,” Byleth nodded with a small smile, “I’ll speak to the necessary people and let you know what I hear from them. There’s much on my plate at the moment, so it may take me a while to get back to you, but I’ll try my best.”

Maggie airily responded, “Of course, of course.”

Felix brusquely asked, “Are there any other whispers you’d like to address?”

The woman chuckled, the sound too deep for her petite stature. “Oh, you’ve caught me. I confess, I have quite the ear for gossip. Call it a… bad habit.”

He threw an arm around Felix’s tense shoulders and jovially replied, “We’ve all got those, now don’t we?” He squeezed the swordsman’s shoulders, trying to signal for him to back off. If he was truly suspicious of the woman, he was being about as subtle as a stampede of wild horses.

“Indeed,” Maggie nodded, causing her veil to shift the slightest bit. She reached up immediately to fix it, fiddling with a fake flower that seemed to be pinning the veil into place. “I do not wish to take up too much of your time. I look forward to seeing you again soon, Byleth.”

“Likewise,” Byleth nodded, green eyes watching Maggie’s retreating form intently.

“I don’t trust her,” Felix quietly hissed as soon as she was gone.

“Do you trust anyone?” Linhardt asked in a bored tone.

Byleth shook her head lightly as Felix opened his mouth to argue, and he clamped his mouth shut. She put a hand on Linhardt’s shoulder as she asked, “Do you know much about her, Lin?”

“Not much other than the obvious things,” the green-haired healer shrugged, “She helps to teach the children down here, and thus, meets with Yuri every once and a while. She’s in here fairly often, always reading a different book. Yuri told me she most likely has a past she’s running from, like most of the people down here. At least, that’s the reason he assumes she wears the veil.”

“Speaking of Yuri…” Byleth started, glancing around the room, “Do you know if he’s here?”

“Looking for me?” Yuri’s voice cooed from up a set of metal stairs. He walked down like he was part of some sort of pageant, all excessive movements and flair, until he stood in front of Byleth.

She smiled slightly as she nodded. “Ready to go meet with Seteth?”

“Sure, friend. Shall we?” He held out an arm for her, and she looped hers through. 

She looked to them and asked, “Are you coming back to the surface with us?”

Sylvain leaned back against the desk Lin was currently falling back asleep on top of. “I think I might hang out with Lin for a bit.” He was curious to see if the sleepy mage had found anything else of interest, and wanted an opportunity to maybe glance around the shelves himself. Linhardt groaned, but quickly gave up on going back to sleep as he sat up to rifle through the books.

“I’m coming with you,” Felix gruffly answered, looking off to the side, “I have training to do.”

He supposed that was a good point. They had four days until they marched for Ailell. There was no time to waste. Felix glanced to him one last time before turning the corner and walking out of sight.

As soon as they were gone, he clasped a hand on Linhardt’s shoulder and quietly murmured, “Now why don’t you tell me a little more about this ‘sworn vengeance’ stuff, hm?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Some of the texts from the Shadow Library are going to come up through this series. (We already had one earlier when Yuri was enlisted to help against TWSITD, but I just wanted to give a heads up.) Linhardt is slowly putting a few things together, and he's pretty psyched about it. Felix is being overprotective as always, my ornery swordsman. And Sylvain? Sylvain's intrigued, worried, and a hot mess all at the same time. Fascinating, right?
> 
> Next chapter is Ailell, and hot daddy Rodrigue will enter the stage. (Is anyone else super into Rodrigue's character design? Because seriously. He's delightful.)
> 
> Have a great week! I'll try to get the next update out as soon as possible. If you're interested, check out my Sylvain/Byleth fic! "Can I Put My Trust In You?" :)


	22. And I'm Begging You, Bring Me Back To Life (You Can Take Me Or Leave Me, But I Won't Be Anywhere But Here)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Chapter title pulled from "Stutter" by Marianas Trench
> 
> Ambush at Ailell. "Lord Rodrigue has joined your party."

~Byleth~

The only time she could recall marching with a force even close to this size was a few months— _years, Byleth… it was years_ —ago when they marched over the Great Bridge of Myrrdin. Knowing that she was responsible for said group was anxiety inducing to the upmost degree, especially with Yuri and Shamir’s warnings of spies at the monastery still ringing in her ears.

She had decided to bring along most of the former students who had returned to the monastery—notably excluding Linhardt and Leonie. Linhardt was fine with being left behind, for obvious reasons, but Leonie had begged to come to Ailell, never one to be satisfied with being left out. Eventually Byleth caved, and explained her plan to send the ginger bow knight with Joel and some other members of the Blade Breaker crew to Dedrui upon their return, with a message for Claude in hopes of an alliance with… well… the Alliance. Having been let in on the secret, Leonie was satisfied, and vowed to use the extra time for training so she would be ready to go when they got back.

She had also brought Yuri and Balthus along—Constance and Hapi having declined her invitation to join due to Constance’s aversion to the sun—and a small battalion of knights led by Alois at Seteth’s insistence. Her advisor and his daughter stayed behind, tasked with keeping things running while they were away. It was a four-day march to the Valley of Ailell, and depending on the state of the rebellion troops and how they were transporting their supplies, it could be even longer to return to the monastery.

Felix and Sylvain had hardly left her side the entirety of the march, and Balthus tended to hover as well. She knew that everyone was still on edge from her month-long slumber, but the lack of alone time, and most importantly peace and quiet, was actually going to drive her crazy. In this moment especially, as they approached the edge of the blistering valley. The hotter the temperature got, the more Felix and Sylvain seemed to bicker like children.

She loved them dearly, and if it was necessary, she would die for them without hesitation… but if they didn’t SHUT THE HELL UP there were going to be _dire consequences_.

Sylvain whined, “Why is it so HOT?!” for what had to be the fifteenth time in the last five minutes, tugging fruitlessly at his fur-lined collar as his mount huffed in what sounded oddly like agreement.

Felix barked, “Well, your incessant whining isn’t going to improve anything, you fool,” on her right, making her roll her eyes and Sylvain let out an offended whimper. _They may be in love now, but they are never going to stop bickering like this, are they?_ It was one of the only things that hadn’t changed during her five-year slumber, which was comforting most times… this just wasn’t one of those times.

She couldn’t blame them for their discomfort. She had shed her armored coat long ago, leaving her in only her breastplate and collar with her riding pants and boots—mourning the loss of her shorts and tights. She was much better off than many of her former students, Sylvain and Felix especially. She wasn’t sure why in the Eternal Flames Felix wouldn’t take off his heavy coat, but she was used to being unable to understand Felix by now. The real struggle was Sylvain, with his heavy breastplate that happened to be lined with furs due to his Faerghus upbringing. His face was nearly as red as his hair, and she couldn’t help but cast furtive glances at him, worried about the possibility of heat exhaustion. He was easily the one of the Faerghus clan that was susceptible to the heat. She remembered him complaining even on the tame summer days at the monastery. 

_Where is Dimitri? How is he doing?_ She twisted around in her saddle, but couldn’t catch a glance of the prince, or Gilbert. It was hardly surprising. Dimitri had been avoiding her ever since she had woken up, and she couldn’t find out why. She allowed herself a disappointed sigh and wiped the sweat from her brow with the back of her hand before sitting up straighter in her saddle.

The heat was quickly becoming unbearable, to the point where she felt she could taste it every time she took a breath in through her mouth. In effort to avoid this, she tried breathing in through her nose, only to have her nostrils feel like they were burning as they were assaulted with the smell of fire and ash.

_This meeting place better be worth it._

“Sothis help us…” spilled from her lips as they crested the ridge at the edge of the Ailell, and looked down into the magma lakes that made up the valley. Surely they wouldn’t be confronted here of all places… Right? 

Black volcanic rock formed patches that would hopefully be suitable to travel across, and ominous croppings of the volcanic rock formed towering ridges as they descended into the valley. Murmurs of discomfort could be heard behind her as morale plummeted. This place was awful, she could only hope that they could leave as soon as possible.

At the sound of trotting hoofbeats, she turned in her saddle to see Gilbert and Dimitri approaching. The blonde prince was looking away as they approached, unwilling to meet her gaze. It was concerning to see that he was still wearing the thick cloak she hadn’t seen leave his person since she’d found him in the Goddess Tower, and he was slumped over in his saddle with his face completely flushed. 

She wondered whether he had approached on her right—the side that Felix was on—on purpose, or if further angering the ornery swordsman was just a coincidence.

Gustave wiped at his forehead and panted, “This valley isn’t a place that I’d care to return to…” Byleth huffed a quiet laugh, nodding in agreement.

“After the chilliness of Faerghus, this level of heat is unbearable,” Felix grumbled, casting a glare Dimitri’s way before surveying the area again.

Sylvain pulled at his collar again as he panted, “Historically, there have been battles whose outcomes were determined in part by the climate. You can’t argue that this heat isn’t a factor.” She glanced over to check on him again, and he caught her gaze. He quickly waved her off with a weak smile, which she returned with a nod of her head.

Felix grumpily retorted, “Hopefully there won’t be a battle. We just have to find my father, then we can get out of this goddess forsaken valley.” 

Her mount gave a whiney of protest, and she halted as the steed began stamping its feet. She bent over to try and appease the gentle beast, but nothing she did seemed to calm him. The ground beneath them had slowly started to change the further they wandered into the valley. It wasn’t bad at the moment, but further down she could see where magma and what she could only imagine was intensely hot steam, burst through cracks in the ground in violent spurts. The horses were likely displeased with their treatment, a fact that was echoed by Ingrid’s pegasus as it took to the skies, rather than continuing to tread on the burning ground.

“I’m going to dismount,” she panted, swinging her leg over to do just that, “I don’t think I can lead my mount any further.” She wasn’t going to be fighting on horseback anyway. Perhaps they could leave some of the horses behind with the wagons and a few members of the healing battalion? 

She reached up to take off her circlet, pulling the hair off her neck for a moment as she surveyed the area. Felix dismounted and walked over to stand beside her as she called out the order. Several members of Sylvain’s battalion looked like they would be overjoyed to take the job, but they marched on when their leader continued down the path. She would like to think she could leave most of their forces behind, but something felt… _off_. She couldn’t fight the overwhelming apprehension pooling in her stomach.

Gustave walked over to join her and Felix, closely followed by a reluctant Dimitri. The older knight looked at her in concern and fretted, “Lady Byleth, be honest. How are you holding up?” 

She huffed a heavy breath and placed her circlet back on her head. “I never imagined it would be like this…”

Gustave hummed in agreement before musing, “Monks once used this place as an ascetic training ground because of the intense environment. They say Ailell was born of the goddess’ rage…” The look he sent her could almost be considered beseeching, like he wanted to hear her opinion, but didn’t dare ask it of her. Unfortunately, she had been getting a lot of that from many of the Knights of Seiros since her return, and it was made worse by the “goddess’ blessing” that everyone seemed to attribute directly to her. She couldn’t go anywhere without hearing murmurs of “goddess’ vessel” or people singing literal hymns of praise like she was Sothis, herself. 

She tilted her head slightly to the side as she began walking again, waving her hand for their forces to proceed their march. She could hear Alois’ booming voice calling the order to advance further back so those in the rear of the march knew what was going on. “Her rage?” she asked, glancing around the pillars of volcanic rock that surrounded them. “I hadn’t heard that before.” 

Gustave nodded, looking at her with a touch of something fearful, “If you believe the legends, this valley is evidence of the goddess’ judgement… passed on humanity for its corruption.” An affronted noise escaped her, as a feeling of confusion and offense crashed over her. She looked to the older knight in confusion. “The forest that once covered the area was burnt to ash by a pillar of light that descended from the heavens. That legend fueled belief in a place of torment between our world and the next… where one’s sins are purified in the cleansing flames.”

 _Pillar of light…_ a trickle of unease caused gooseflesh to form on her arms, even with the excessive heat.

Dimitri scoffed, the sound harsh and grating as he dismounted from his horse and dismissed it with a complete lack of care. “Nonsense,” he barked, “Sins are not so easily washed away.”

 _Pillar of light…_ Why did that sound so familiar? What was this feeling? It was something palpable in the air, similar to the magic that can sometimes be felt in the air after a battle, but… darker? The word that came to mind over and over was _wrong wrong wrong wrong wrong_. She felt a hand on her elbow, but she didn’t focus on whomever it was as she tried to figure out what exactly she was feeling.

Gilbert’s voice sounded far away as he commented, “Indeed… And there are no accounts of such a place in scripture. Yet those who cannot face their own sins have no choice but to cling to the idea.” Felix stepped in front of her now, she could see the concern in his eyes, and she suddenly realized she had been so focused that she had stopped walking.

“I don’t think it’s the goddess’ rage,” she mumbled, Gilbert quickly turning to stare at her in a reverent manner, “I think it was something far more sinister. I can feel it in the air even still.” Her fingers flexed as if she could feel it on her fingertips. Felix’s grip on her arms tightened, bringing her back to the present, and she felt far too warm all of the sudden—warm in a way that didn’t feel like the heat of the valley. Her skin buzzed with something she couldn’t explain and her next intake of breath halted as amber eyes stared into her own. 

While Gilbert and Dimitri kept walking, Felix quietly asked, “What was that?” Mercedes ran over with a waterskin and in order to stop the kind healer from fretting excessively she drank some, making it so she couldn’t answer at first. Felix’s intense gaze never stopped searching her face, making her feel oddly exposed.

After she had handed the skin back and waved Mercedes off, she quietly answered, “I don’t know. Call it a feeling.” 

Sylvain and part of his battalion had ridden ahead as she and Gilbert spoke, and when he realized how far away she and Felix were, he circled back toward them. She couldn’t help smiling as he got closer, the fondness in his gaze enough to make even this awful heat bearable. The redhead cracked a joke about how Ailell was almost as hot as Felix is, making the swordsman grunt in protest. She had a sneaking suspicion that even if it wasn’t as hot as the Eternal Flames, Felix’s face and ears would still be red. She couldn’t help but laugh, and others around her joined in, some of the heaviness of their morale fading for the slightest moment as they walked into the shadow of the upcoming ridge.

She turned her face toward Felix as they walked, and finally asked the question that had been sitting on her tongue since they left the monastery. “Are you ready for this?”

He turned his face toward her and asked, “For what?”

“Seeing your father.”

“I’m more…” he paused, fiddling with the pommel of his sword, “…concerned.” She glanced over at him in surprise and he huffed as he looked the other direction. “Seeing the boar like this is going to be hard for him.”

“You haven’t told her yet?” Sylvain chimed in from her left, sitting astride his horse.

“Told me what?” She hated the way her voice hardened, an instinct now after being shut out by Felix so many times.

Felix shook his head fervently and tried to explain, “I talked to my—"

That was when all hell broke loose.

Ingrid was the first to die. Her pegasus let out a desperate whinny as a torrent of arrows were unleashed from the top of the ridge and that towered to their right, a battalion of archers having appeared out of what seemed like nowhere. Ingrid let out a terrified scream and seemed to fall in slow motion, until she ultimately landed in a sea of incoming enemy soldiers.

Their shoddy excuse for a marching formation crumbled in the mere seconds before her brain could process what was happening. Dimitri let out a terrifying battle cry and dove into the oncoming forces as Sylvain let out an anguished scream of Ingrid’s name. As another round of arrows rained down on top of them, Felix pulled the Aegis Shield off his back, stepping in front of her with the Relic held high in her defense. She stepped to him, lightly placing her hands on his back to try and make it easier for him.

Her instincts waited for the familiar sound of the projectiles bouncing off the shield, but it never came. Instead, she heard a panicked bray and a thud, and as Felix lowered the Relic, they found Sylvain on the ground. He had swerved his horse in front of them, and had shielded them with his body instead. His horse was several feet away, having abandoned its fallen rider in an attempt to flee.

“Sylvain?! Baby?!” Felix ran forward, desperately crying out to Sylvain to try and get his lover to respond. “Syl! Open your eyes!” Terrified screams filled the air, and she could only imagine that meant that the wave of incoming soldiers had met her own. “Sylvain! Sylvain, I love you! Baby, please!” The terrified screams quickly turned into the cries of the dying, and panic flooded her body. She couldn’t breathe. Everyone was dying and it was all her fault.

All her fault. _Wrong wrong wrong wrong._

“BYLETH!” Her eyes zeroed in on wide amber ones, and the air in her lungs left in a painful rush when she saw Felix cradling Sylvain’s motionless body, riddled with arrows, in his arms. “BYLETH CHANGE IT!”

Then she took hold of the threads of time and PULLED.

~Felix~

Gustave asked Byleth, “Lady Byleth, be honest. How are you holding up?” 

She huffed a heavy breath and placed her circlet back on her head. “I never imagined it would be like this…” 

He still felt unaccustomed to her new armor, apparently gifted to her by Yuri. The black and gold ensemble fit her better than whatever nonsense she’d been wearing during the Imperial attack on the monastery, though. There was something about the way she looked in it, the way she held herself… She was every bit the terrifying warrior goddess that he’d always thought she was—ever since that night by the wishing well when she stood against Miklan. 

He shook the embarrassing thought away and turned his eyes back to their surroundings.

Gustave hummed in agreement before saying, “Monks once used this place as an ascetic training ground because of the intense environment. They say Ailell was born of the goddess’ rage…” The look he sent her was pointed, like he wanted to hear her opinion, but didn’t dare ask it of her. The older knight’s treatment of Byleth was akin to how one would treat the goddess herself at times, a fact that drove him to the edge of madness whenever the deadbeat got especially pious. Byleth had never specifically told them how the conversation had gone when she had asked him for details about the Tragedy, but he imagined that was the reason for the older knight’s reverence toward her.

He couldn’t blame the man, per say… But he didn’t have to enjoy it.

Byleth’s head tilted to the side as she began walking again, waving her hand for their forces to proceed their march. “Her rage?” she asked, glancing around the area. “I hadn’t heard that before.”

Gustave nodded, looking down at her with a touch of something fearful, “If you believe the legends, this valley is evidence of the goddess’ judgement… passed on humanity for its corruption.” Byleth made an affronted noise, looking up at the knight in obvious bewilderment. “The forest that once covered the area was burnt to ash by a pillar of light that descended from the heavens. That legend fueled belief in a place of torment between our world and the next… where one’s sins are purified in the cleansing flames.”

The boar scoffed, the sound harsh and grating as he dismounted from his horse and dismissed it with a complete lack of care. “Nonsense,” he barked, “Sins are not so easily washed away.”

Byleth’s eyes became glassy in a way that he hadn’t seen since their Academy days, and he walked over to put his hand lightly at her elbow as she came to a stop. He could hear Gustave in the background as he replied, “Indeed… And there are no accounts of such a place in scripture. Yet those who cannot face their own sins have no choice but to cling to the idea.”

Byleth still hadn’t snapped out of whatever was happening, and the fact that she had stopped was starting to draw attention. He grabbed both of her arms, fearing that she might be succumbing to the heat or something. Mercedes must have noticed his worry, because she started to rush over to check on them, only for Byleth to shake her head and blink the glassiness from her eyes.

“I don’t think it’s the goddess’ rage,” she murmured, her eyes surveying the area with a look he couldn’t decipher, “I think it was something far more sinister. I can feel it in the air even still.” Her fingers flexed as if she was going to summon a spell to her fingertips, but she didn’t. She startled slightly as they made eye contact, as though she were surprised he was right in front of her, even though he had been here whole time.

“What was that?” he whispered, trying not to garner too much attention. Mercedes ran over with a waterskin and forced Byleth to drink some, making it so she couldn’t answer.

After she had handed the skin back and waved Mercedes off, she quietly answered, “I don’t know. Call it a feeling.”

Sylvain must have noticed that they had fallen behind, because he circled around to ride back toward them. At the same moment, Byleth’s entire body went rigid beneath his touch, as her features shifted into what he and the other Lions often referred to as the “Ashen Demon” mask.

Her voice rang with the authority of an experienced commander as she bellowed, “Is this the formation I taught you all to travel in? Defensive positions! Archers and mages toward the back. We’re approaching the meeting place, let’s show Lord Rodrigue that his resources aren’t misplaced!”

There were calls of “yes, Professor” and “yes, Lady Byleth” as everyone scrambled to get into positions, but he was busy watching as her eyes fixed on a point just over his shoulder. Sylvain reached them and quietly asked, “What is it?”

“Ambush,” she harshly whispered. Her eyes narrowed on Sylvain as she walked over, grabbed onto his arm and hissed, “Never pull that shit again.” The redhead looked at her in obvious bewilderment, and she instantly realized the absurdity of what she’d just said, because she shook her head and whispered, “Sorry. I’ll explain later.”

“Ingrid,” she barked, picking up speed as they continued their march, “Keep a look out for Rodrigue’s forces!” _“Keep a look out for an enemy ambush that I know about but I can’t tell others I know about.”_

The pegasus knight began circling higher into the sky, only to suddenly yell, “Professor! There are banners for House Rowe behind that next ridge!”

Gilbert cried out, “No! It can’t be!” 

Yuri appeared in a flash of light at Byleth’s side, “There must have been a spy at the monastery. Shamir and I thought we got all of them… Damn.”

He found himself growling, “Maybe a spy from House Rowe?” without considering his actions. 

Byleth cut him a harsh glare and hissed, “This is hardly the time.” She clapped her hands sharply and called, “Prepare for battle!”

A terrifying laugh split the air before the boar cackled, “These are the traitors that curried favor with that witch and sold out Faerghus! How kind of them to save us the trouble of killing them later.”

Byleth looked to Yuri and asked, “Is there any chance they can be reasoned with.”

“It’ll be Lord Gwendal leading them,” he mused, an oddly sad look in his eye before he wiped it away, “so no. Not a chance.”

“Fine,” Byleth gritted out, unsheathing the Sword of the Creator, “death it is, then. Sylvain, lead Ingrid, Dorothea, Ashe, Annette, and your battalion to the right. Watch your step.” As if on cue, boiling magma shot up out of the ground less than twenty yards ahead of them, spooking Sylvain’s horse. The beast reared up on its back legs, and Sylvain clung to the reins in an effort to stay on. Annette let out a nervous yelp from her seat on Ashe’s horse, as the archer’s mount stamped its hooves nervously.

“Everyone else? With me! Look out for incoming arrows!” Byleth called, raising the Sword of the Creator with a battle cry. Her cry was answered with the sound of arrows whizzing through the air, luckily evaded or blocked by shields due to Byleth’s forewarning. Magic filled the air, and he turned in time to glimpse Dorothea’s spell sigil as she summoned a massive meteor that crashed down on the ridge where enemy archers were busy nocking another arrow. 

He sprinted at Byleth’s right, sticking with her as she fought to keep up with Gilbert and the mad prince who had already taken off toward a massive body of troops that had rounded the ridge and were now marching toward them. Byleth raised her hand, and a Thunder spell crashed down on one of the heavily armored knights, causing the man to let out an agonized scream as he dropped to the ground. His screams cut off as he cut through the enemy’s ruined chestplate, killing him. 

In a beam of light, Yuri appeared behind the battalion of enemies with Balthus at his side. The two of them ambushed the enemy from behind, causing enough confusion that their forces crumbled with ease at their advance. Byleth waved them onward with a nod of acknowledgement to Yuri and Balthus, who raised his gauntleted fist in the air with a whoop of triumph.

Byleth turned on her heel and called, “Dimitri, pull back!”

The boar either didn’t hear her, or didn’t heed her, because he continued running toward the next group of enemies with Gilbert a few paces behind him. She shouted, “Yuri!”

“Got it.” In a snap of the trickster’s fingers, she was gone. He let out a string of furious curses as she reappeared in front of the boar prince, shoving him backward as boiling hot steam erupted from the ground right beside her. She let out a cry of pain as the Sword of the Creator dropped to the ground, her hand a burnt and blistered mess beneath her destroyed arm armor plates. Yuri appeared beside her, leaving him and Balthus to run to catch up to them, and casted a Recover spell on her hand as she pulled off the destroyed pieces of armor with a hiss of pain. 

The boar paid none of this any mind, charging forward to meet the enemy forces that were rapidly approaching. Byleth called, “B, help them!” nodding toward the boar and Gustave riding beside him. “Mercie! Follow at a distance, and try to keep him going!” 

“Yes, Professor,” Mercedes replied, running after Balthus with a few members of the healing battalion. One of the monks stopped to see if Byleth needed any further healing, but she waved them off as she picked up the Sword of the Creator, her mask still set, even as her eyes burned with a terrifying level of fury.

She ran off, he and Yuri close behind, and she hissed, “He’s going to get himself killed.”

“I can make that harder,” Yuri commented, raising his Relic gauntlet. 

Felix clicked his tongue, before responding, “Antagonize the beast and he’ll cut you down.” He had no doubt that if Yuri kept warping him backward—as he was obviously implying—that the boar would just cut him down so he could charge forward, leaving Byleth with more of a headache.

“Says the person who regularly antagonizes him,” Yuri chuckled, casting an Aura spell that sent a pillar of vibrant yellow down on an enemy cavalry unit that was making its way toward them. Bernadetta let out a nervous battle cry before finishing off the enemy with an arrow to the throat.

Byleth barked, “Enough, both of you!” before putting on a burst of speed. She cried, “Balthus guard Mercie!” The brawler hurried back toward the healer, just as arrows whizzed out from behind a rocky outcropping, bouncing harmlessly off the Relic gauntlets on Balthus’ arms when he jumped in front of her.

Mercedes panted, “Thank you, Balthus,” as they got closer. The brawler winked at her before rushing forward to take out the enemies that had dared to aim at the healer. Caspar raced passed him on his left to go and join the much bigger brawler.

Byleth commanded, “Yuri, take me to Dimitri!” 

“Yes, ma’am!” the infuriating man cooed. Already grabbing her arm as a pillar of light formed around him. 

“Wait! Don’t—” his protests were useless as they vanished, leaving him behind. He growled in frustration as he arrived to help Balthus and Caspar with more reinforcements that had been hiding behind the outcropping of volcanic rock. _They never seem to stop coming!_ He was supposed to be helping Byleth, who was furiously cutting through Dukedom forces further ahead, but she’d left him behind.

She had an infuriating tendency of doing that.

After casting a Thoron spell at a heavily armored soldier, he took the time to check on Sylvain and his group, who he could vaguely see over the heated haze that rose from the lake of lava between them, cutting toward the right. His eye caught blue banners further on, past more Dukedom forces, and he breathed a sigh of relief. He hadn’t realized how worried he’d been for his father and the rebellion forces until just now. It was far too easy for his mind to get lost in the mayhem of battle.

Caspar called, “Let’s catch up to the Professor, yeah?” He nodded firmly in agreement, motioning for Mercedes to stay behind them where she would be safer.

Most of the forces on their side had been cleared away by the raging prince as Byleth and Gilbert tried to help keep the Dukedom forces from surrounding him. If the boar had been reckless in his fighting during the Imperial invasion, his actions were downright suicidal in this battle. He was throwing himself at entire battalions of warriors, leaving Byleth and Gilbert to try and help as Yuri warped between their group and Sylvain’s to convey her orders. 

They hadn’t brought the forces necessary to adequately route this ambush, and the speculations of where they would be if they didn’t have Byleth and her powers sent a shudder down his spine and his grip on his sword became too tight for comfort. No matter how much he focused on his breathing, he couldn’t shake the anxiety-filled questions that circled in his mind. There had already been too many near misses. Would she be okay? How many times could she stand to use her power? How many times could she use it before she ultimately collapsed? 

Would the boar even spare her a glance, or would he leave her on the burning ground and continue his reckless assault as she died for him?

Felix finally reached Byleth as they approached Lord Gwendal himself, perched on a giant warhorse. He hadn’t had much personal interaction with the elderly knight, though a memory of him greeting his father at Glenn’s funeral did come to mind. He knew him to be overly loyal—the type to follow orders no matter what they were. This fact became even more apparent as the boar approached him, Byleth and Gilbert at either side of the would-be king.

In a flash of light, Yuri appeared beside them, his features grim. Lord Gwendal spotted him and let out a harsh bark of laughter. “So. You’ve chosen to turn your blade against the Count. Heh. Never thought I’d see the day, mongrel.”

Yuri shook his head, flipping some of his hair over his shoulder with the hand that wasn’t holding his silver sword. “And yet you’re seeing it, aren’t you? Say what you will. I know your true feelings for me. Sure, you watched my back by order of the Count. But you cared, too. You were the only one who treated me as an equal.”

“That is all in the past,” the elderly knight’s deep voice rumbled, “This is no place for misplaced sentimentality. I must do what I came here to do.”

“You’ve lost this battle, even with your underhanded ambush tactics,” Byleth called, her voice full of authority tinged with fury as she flicked the Sword of the Creator at her side, “Surrender now, and we will spare what remains of your men.”

“I have orders, and they do not come from you,” Gwendal replied, adjusting his grip on his lance as his horse stamped its hooves. The knights surrounding Lord Gwendal looked between their commander and Byleth in obvious indecision.

The boar threw his head back with a sharp bark of laughter. “Ha! The man praised as a lion is degraded to a mere traitor’s underling.” 

Gwendal’s eyes widened as they landed on the boar, before he countered, “Traitor’s underling? That’s upsetting Your Highness. I am and always have been a knight of House Rowe.”

“How dare you?” the boar snarled, stepping forward with his bloodied lance in hand, “You are nothing but a lowly beast ravaging for scraps. You have forgotten the dignity of knighthood.”

Gwendal charged toward the boar, causing Byleth and Gilbert to tense as the boar awaited the incoming attack. “I may be lowly, but this beast is devoted to his master.”

“Then I had better kill the pet, and deliver its head to that master!” the boar roared. He charged forward, leaping into the air as he thrust his lance into Gwendal’s shoulder, the weapon piercing straight through, and causing the knight’s own lance to drop to the ground. With a grating click, the Sword of the Creator launched forward, straight into the elderly knight’s chest. He fell from the saddle with a cry of pain, as his soldiers halted their advance.

Byleth shouted, “Throw down your weapons, and we will show mercy!” bringing the Sword of the Creator back to its sword form. The sound of weapons clattering against the ground filled the air as soldiers dropped their weapons and knelt with their hands over their heads, choosing surrender over facing the combined might of the mad prince and the Sword of the Creator.

“Collect their weapons, and get them out of here,” Byleth ordered, sheathing the Sword of the Creator. Gustave and Alois called out to the small battalion of the Knights of Serios and moved to follow orders, as did the remaining members of their party. He chose to follow Byleth, as she stalked after the boar prince, who was storming away from the group.

The boar turned on her once they had put some distance between them and those that had just surrendered, “You think you have the authority to show mercy to those who would betray the Holy Kingdom of Faerghus?!”

“You don’t get to yell at me!” Byleth screamed right back, her fists clenched at her sides as she trembled with rage—or perhaps something else. “What in the Eternal Flames was that?! Are you trying to get yourself, and those who fight for you, killed?!” The boar scoffed, crossed his arms over his chest, and turned his face away dismissively.

Byleth, in what Felix could only assume was a rare act of rage, grabbed the top of his breastplate and pulled him down toward her, startling the boar. His lone eye widened as she hissed, “Do you want to know who is willing to die for you? Do you even care?”

The boar snarled, “I’ve already told you—”

“No!” She hollered, her eyes burning with fury, “Do you want to know who is willing to die for you?! Because I can tell you!”

The boar grabbed Byleth’s forearm and wrenched her hand away from his breastplate with a white knuckled grip. Byleth clenched her teeth, the barest hiss of pain escaping her in the face of the boar’s strength. He stepped to her side and ordered, “Let her go, Boar!”

“I have already told you,” the fallen prince growled, getting closer to Byleth’s face with each word, “I will continue to use you and the others until the flesh falls from your very bones. You’re useless to me as anything other than fodder!”

“You’re lying,” she spat, her whole body shaking with rage, “You care and you know it!” 

The boar let out a harsh bark of laughter. “If you continue to get in my way, I will cut you down as well!” 

Rage flared hot as the valley in his chest and he drew his sword before he could blink, pointing it towards the boar as he growled, “Over my dead body!” 

The boar threw Byleth’s arm to the side with a click of his tongue, stepping toward him until his breastplate scraped across the edge of his blade with an earsplitting screech. He growled, “You are a Fraldarius,” spitting the name like it was a curse.

In a way, Felix supposed it was just that.

“That he is, Your Highness,” a familiar voice called over the sound of distant hoof beats. The boar’s eyes narrowed at him in warning, before he whipped around to face his father, who approached with two of his personal knights, as well as Sylvain and Ingrid. He sheathed his sword with a huffed breath.

He paid his father no mind, instead walking over to Byleth, who held her arm with her teeth gritted off to the side. She was taking deep breaths like she was trying to regain her composure. He could only imagine what she had to have seen to make her lose control like that. He could hear his father joke, “It’s been too long, Your Highness. But try to temper your joy, will you? This is war, after all.”

He gingerly touched where the boar had grabbed Byleth and she raised her eyes to meet his with a weary exhale. Standing this close, he could see how truly exhausted she was, her face was pale and her hands were trembling as she swayed slightly on her feet. How many times had she had to use her power today? Sylvain came up to stand beside him, his question-filled eyes scanning Byleth before he put a hand lightly over the arm she clutched and used a Heal spell.

Knowing that Sylvain would be able to comfort her, he turned his back to Byleth, placing himself between her and the conversation in effort to give her a moment to breathe. He watched as the boar crossed his arms and stared down at his father in forced disdain. “To say such a thing at a time like this... You have not changed one bit.”

“Don’t let looks deceive you,” his father chided, “I’ve had a rough go of it ever since I crossed blades with those traitors in Fhirdiad. When I heard you were bound for execution, I rushed there as fast as I could, blind with fury. When I got there, I was fed some garbage about how the sentence had already been carried out, and I was barred from being able to see your body. The next thing I knew, I was gripping my blade and…” His father let out a heavy breath, the tension that had seeped into him during his rant deflating as he did so. 

He turned to Ingrid with a small smile, “You all have done well to locate His Highness. I am truly grateful.” Ingrid nodded, her eyes turning to the boar with a look somewhere between exasperation and hurt. He didn’t have to talk to the pegasus knight to know that she had been hoping that the boar seeing his father would help to drag him out of the darkness he had sunken into.

He knew it couldn’t be that easy.

Byleth stepped to his side just as his father turned to face him. The small smile on the old man’s face grew as he walked forward, arms outstretched, and pulled her into embrace that shocked everyone. Ingrid’s jaw dropped, he stared wide eyed, and Sylvain coughed awkwardly into his fist. The boar’s scowl was full of disdain as an icy blue eye watched their reunion. Where his mother was doting and tended to hover and fuss, his father had always been a stickler for propriety—his version of affection being a pat on the shoulder, a handshake, or a soft smile—but it seemed even that long held belief took a backseat in the face of seeing Byleth again. 

“Byleth! I cannot tell you what it means to see you alive and well!” His father stepped back, still holding Byleth by the upper arms as he scanned her with eyes nearly glowing with relief. “Felix briefly mentioned that your appearance had changed, but I must admit that I almost didn’t recognize you.”

Byleth chuckled tiredly, her eyes crinkling as she nodded. “Yes. It still surprises me at times, as well.”

“When we entered the valley and saw the ambush underway, I feared the very worst. It seems Cornelia has spies, even in Garreg Mach. The fact that you are all safe proves that your skills and tactical genius did not fade during your five-year rest.” His father’s hands lit up with healing magic as he grabbed her hand, casting a Recover spell. “It is no wonder you are exhausted after such a battle.”

“Thank you,” Byleth sighed, seeming to look a little better. However, he knew she was trying hard to keep it together. He wished he could pull her aside to give her a moment to breathe, to vent, to do whatever she needed to do, but that wasn’t possible now.

His father turned back toward the boar and bowed his head as he said, “Your Highness… Fhirdiad is in a terrible state right now. The tyranny is unbearable, and so the rebellions are endless. Refugees starve to death in the streets.” He raised his head to look the boar in the eye as he continued, “If I may speak freely, Your Highness… We should change course to Fhirdiad and take down those traitors before we embark to Enbarr.”

Byleth let out a heavy breath as she paced backward to stand beside him again. Sylvain stood at her other side, and put a hand on her lower back to steady her as they all watched the exchange, knowing it wouldn’t end well. His father’s voice was just another added to the list that felt that marching straight to Enbarr was foolish. “There is no time for that,” the boar barked, “We must annihilate Enbarr before all else.” The boar prince swayed on his feet, his face red with fury or the heat.

“Think this through!” his old man pleaded. “I understand wanting to destroy the Empire and the emperor. I want that so much it hurts. But which is more important? The dead, or the living?” He had to push away the feeling of surprise at hearing those words from his father, the one who constantly rambled about King Lambert and promises made long ago.

“Silence!” The boar bellowed, stumbling forward until he stared down at his father. He looked away, unable to watch this any further. Byleth’s hand came to rest on his elbow, and he focused on that feeling instead of the others that he didn’t want to face.

His father argued, “No, Dimitri! You will hear me out.”

The boar’s eye became unfocused as he growled, “Are you asking me… asking the dead… to forgive that woman?”

“No, I would not ask that of you. What I am asking is that you prioritize the Kingdom capital over the Imperial capital for now. As Lambert’s close and trusted friend, I am confident that he would have advised the same.”

If the boar had any composure left, it shattered at the mention of his long dead father. “Do not dare to put words in the mouth of the dead. They are words alone, even if you borrow their lips. Until I offer up that woman’s head, Father will remain a slave to his lingering regret and hatred…” He stumbled backward, looking down at his hands as he rambled, “Even now, he suffers. It is ceaseless! As we waste time with idle chatter… his suffering… it continues!”

His father sighed, bowing his head. “You are my King. Our King. Wherever you lead, we will follow. But Your Highness… There are those who take up their sword in revenge, and yet along the way, lose the strength and composure to follow through… You would do well to bear that in mind.” 

The boar’s eye stared off into the distance as Byleth stepped forward cautiously. “Dimitri…” she softly called, only to yell his name as he fell to the ground. She rushed to the boar’s side, as did his father and Ingrid, and immediately had her hands on his cheeks as they glowed with healing magic. “He’s burning up! We have to get him out of here.”

“Indeed,” his father sighed, “Byleth. I have a request.” She turned to him her eyes wide with exasperation and worry. “Allow me to accompany you to the monastery.”

Byleth’s mouth opened and shut before she finally settled on, “I thought—”

“I wish to fight by your side,” his father interrupted, his tone brokering no argument. Not that such a thing would stop him.

“Senile already, old man?” he gritted out, “Who will protect our territory? What about mother?”

“I expected it would come to this, so I left matters of the territory to my brother. He has my complete faith. I imagine your mother will be waiting for us when we exit the valley. We must—”

“Mother is here?!” he screeched, “You brought mother into a battle?!”

“Felix,” Byleth pleaded, her eyes showing how distressed she was, “not now. We need to get Dimitri out of here.”

With an exasperated noise that was somewhere between a groan and a growl, he stalked away toward Sylvain’s horse, the redhead following right behind him. They mounted and Sylvain led the horse away, leaving Byleth and his insane father behind. Part of him wanted to turn back, weighed down by the feeling that Byleth needed him, but he knew that he would do nothing but harm with his anger.

“Felix! Darling!” Just as his father had assumed, they found his mother at the edge of the valley, standing with Bernadetta near the wagons. As soon as Sylvain pulled the horse to a stop, he leapt off and stalked toward her. Predictably, Bernadetta took one look at him and ran the other direction.

“Are you hurt? What is father thinking, taking you into battle?” he fussed, looking over her to see if she’d been injured somehow. Oddly enough, she had a bow and a quiver strapped to her back. He knew she’d trained with the weapon when she attended the Officer’s Academy—that was where she met his father, after all—but he hadn’t seen her use a weapon in… maybe ever?

She chuckled fondly and reached up to cup both sides of his face. “You think he could stop me from tagging along after he told me about his little plan? Nonsense.”

He exasperatedly groaned, “You’re telling me he was planning to go against his own plan from the very beginning? He was the one who said he couldn’t be away from the front that long?!”

“He discussed it with your uncle and they were both sure Fraldarius would be safe enough,” his mother assured, “Besides, he couldn’t leave you kids alone to fight this war! Let alone leave Byleth to try and command the rebellion on her own if His Highness was truly as…” she paused, a frown pulling at her lips, “As unhelpful as you described.”

“Unhelpful,” he scoffed, his jaw clenching as he remembered their interaction from minutes ago. “And she’s not on her own,” he huffed, crossing his arms.

His mother’s amber eyes, so like his own, sparkled as she took his hand between her own. “You’ve made up, then?” she asked, hope obvious in her tone.

Before he could say anything in reply, Sylvain dismounted and called, “Gloriana! What a surprise!”

“Sylvain!” she automatically turned and fussed over the redhead just as she had with him, “Look at you both. Let’s get you some water and get you looked over.” She grabbed each of their arms and dragged them toward the healing wagon. Sylvain met his rolled eyes with a wink, absolutely soaking up the attention just as he always had when they were children.

Once she was satisfied that they were hydrated and whole enough, she asked, “Where is your father?” 

As if on cue, the sound of hoof beats sounded out behind them, followed by the sound of the Knights of Seiros that were flitting around drawing their weapons in defense. All weapons were dropped as his father rode in with the boar hung over his saddle. Ingrid landed just behind him, and Byleth immediately ran over to help as his old man and the Fraldarius knights grabbed the fallen prince and carried him toward the healing wagon.

There were frantic whispers as the Knights from the Kingdom and the Knights of Seiros watched them get him into the wagon, covering the entrance and hiding the beast from prying eyes. “Is Dimitri alright?” his mother fretted, holding her hands clasped over her heart. “Sorry, His Highness…”

“Who cares?” he grumbled, looking away as he took another deep gulp from the water skin in his hand. His mother clasped a hand on his arm and he looked back to see her worried gaze. “He’s a danger to everyone, and he’s done nothing but hurt Byleth since she returned. He just told her she was useless other than as fodder against the emperor, and still she chooses to fuss over him.”

“Fe…” Sylvain cooed, stepping forward to put a hand on his arm.

He barked, “No!” and stepped out of Sylvain’s reach. “Even when the beast shows himself, everyone fusses and fawns. I’m sick of it! I’m not going to stand by and watch as everyone dies for him!” He turned on his heel and stalked off. He wasn’t sure where he was going, but he certainly couldn’t be here right now.

~Sylvain~

Gloriana sighed as they both watched Felix storm away. She turned to him, looking up at him with familiar amber eyes and asked, “Are he and Byleth courting?”

His voice choked slightly as he repeated, “Courting?” She nodded enthusiastically as she leaned up to rub something off of his cheek in a motherly way that his mother would never do. “No, they aren’t courting.” 

“Oh,” her lips pulled into a slight pout as she looked at her retreating son’s back, “I thought perhaps…” she trailed off and looked toward the healing wagon where Byleth had disappeared.

“He’s… sworn himself as her sword and shield. It’s been…” he chuckled awkwardly and rubbed the back of his neck, “He’s really taking it seriously.”

Something knowing crept into her gaze as she smiled brightly at him. “So, he just hasn’t confessed to her yet? Or does she not return his feelings? He would never tell us anything, but you’re his best friend, so surely you would know!” _Surely, I would know if my boyfriend, whom I love, would like to confess to our best friend, whom I also love, that he’s in love with her._ Not that he could say anything about who Felix was actually seeing, or begin to explain the complexity of their relationship—friendship… whatever it was—with Byleth.

“Ah ha,” he chuckled nervously, backing slightly away as he crossed his arms behind his head, “As far as I know, Felix isn’t planning anything like that. I’m not sure how he feels about By.” That at least was true. He had his suspicions, but they hadn’t discussed it any further since the row they had about it while they were in Gautier. It was far too dangerous a topic to bring it up again, and things had finally become comfortable for them.

“Sylvain,” she sang his name in that tone that meant she saw right through him. When she narrowed her eyes like that, she looked far too much like her son when he was calling him out on his bullshit.

“I should go and check on my battalion… you know… make sure everyone is doing okay after the battle and this crazy heat!” He waved, turning on his heel to, not run away, but definitely stride very quickly to a place that was not here… talking to his boyfriend’s mother about very uncomfortable things. He called over his shoulder, “See you later!”

She called after him, “Let’s have tea when we get back to the monastery, okay sweetheart?” He gave a thumbs up, still trying to put as much distance between them as he could.

_Oh Saints, it’s going to be awkward having Felix’s parents at the monastery._

He did go to check on his battalion, and found Ashe and Annette there chatting with them. Luckily no one had been seriously injured or killed in the battle—thanks in no small part to Byleth, he was sure. He chatted with them for a while, until Alois came around to call the orders that they were to continue moving until sundown, when they would make camp. He made sure his battalion was ready to go before he searched for Byleth and Felix.

Felix was mounted with Bernadetta and his mother riding close by, but he didn’t see Byleth. Lord Rodrigue passed him on his horse, probably heading over to ride near his wife and son, and he asked, “Is Byleth okay?”

He could tell the resulting smile was stiff as he answered, “She’s riding with His Highness in the wagon. The healers insisted that she needed the rest after the magic she used in the battle.” _Well, that does absolutely nothing to make me feel better._ He waved and called out his thanks anyway, his usual smile plastered onto his face.

He felt bad for leaving her behind earlier… but he knew he had to support Felix. 

As soon as their forces stopped for the night, he handed off his horse to one of the members of his battalion, tried to clean up as best he could, and made his way to the healing wagon Byleth was in. Balthus was leaning against it, talking—somewhat quietly—to Alois about some special coin he carries, given to him by his mother for good luck.

When Balthus noticed him, he immediately waved and called, “Hey, Sylvain! How’s it going, pal?”

“Good! I just came by to check on Byleth. Is she okay?”

Alois nodded. “She’ll be just fine. She was fatigued from the battle, so Lord Rodrigue and the healers convinced her to try and rest in the wagon, rather than riding.”

“Mind if I—”

“Go ahead, pal!” Balthus clapped him on the back with a big smile. “We’ll just chill out here, okay?” He nodded and slowly weaved between them, ducking into the covered wagon.

Dimitri was still unconscious, laid out on a strapped down cot, his top bare except for some dressings across his chest and shoulder. His lower half was covered by a thin sheet, but he could tell how emaciated he looked. It felt so wrong that he should have such brutal strength with how thin he seemed. The prince's ribs protruded, and all he could see was corded muscle beneath his skin. Judging by the smell and look of him, they had taken the opportunity to clean him up while he was out. Byleth had one of the prince’s hands in hers as she slept with her head beside his arm, siting on a wooden bench that took up the side of the wagon, sleeping fitfully if the furrow in her brow and the soft whimper noise she just made was any indication.

He scooted through until he could sit beside Byleth on the bench, and he gently tried to move her so she would be more comfortable, to no avail. She bolted upright as soon as he touched her, blinking sleepily for the barest moment, and then threw herself at him and wrapped her arms around his neck.

“Hey, hey,” he soothed, running a hand through her tangled hair, “It’s okay. We’ve stopped for the night. Balthus and Alois are watching the wagon.” She didn’t say anything, just continued to tuck her face into his neck as he pulled her into his lap so she would be slightly more comfortable. Judging by her breathing and the fact that she wasn’t responding, he was willing to bet she would fall back asleep if he played this right.

“I’m so sorry,” she whispered, her voice wavering with emotion.

“You did so well today, By,” he ran a hand through her hair, trying to keep her somewhat relaxed, “To only suffer minimal casualties after an ambush like that? Everyone’s already talking about the tactical marvel you just pulled off. My men won’t stop singing your praises.” It was true. He also had to keep his mouth shut as they talked about her… other assets… that had absolutely nothing to do with her mind or her battle prowess.

Not that he particularly blamed them for thinking she was beautiful…

She pulled her head out from his neck to gaze at him, her eyes haunted. “They all died,” she brokenly whispered. She moved her forehead to rest it on his and moved her hand to press it over his heart, “You died. It was my fault.”

He tried to move her back so he could look into her eyes, but it seemed she needed the contact. Unfortunately, the proximate was proving to be a bit too intimate for him. His heart was racing under her palm and his hands were starting to get clammy where they held her in place. He quietly assured her, “I’m fine, By.”

“You can’t do that,” she pleaded, her eyes closed as she continued to rest her forehead against his, “You can’t just throw yourself in front of me like that.” He didn’t need to know specifics to know what she was talking about, or to know that he would do it again.

“I’m always going to do whatever I need to in order to keep you alive,” he whispered back. “All of this depends on you. You’re the only one who can change it.”

“You don’t have to watch you die,” she whimpered, moving one hand to the back of his neck to make this somehow even more intimate, “You don’t have to watch Felix hold your body, or hear his screams.”

She had him there, and his heart ached at the thought of it. He crooned, “I’m sorry, By.” It was so hard to think that there were things that she had to see that he couldn’t remember, and it was so humbling to know that he wouldn’t be alive it wasn’t for the woman in his arms. Obviously, he’s known that for almost a decade now, but it still feels odd every time she tells him that he died, and she changed it.

She sighed and dipped her head to rest it on his shoulder again as her breathing evened out. “I can use it more now,” she shuddered, wrapping an arm around his waist and settling against him.

He carefully considered it before asking, “How many times?”

She asked, “Today?” He nodded, adjusting his arms so she wouldn’t have to hold herself up if she fell asleep. “Six.”

“Are you okay?” It was a foolish question, but he wasn’t sure how else to respond.

“Tired,” she sleepily mumbled. She loosely grasped his shirt as she asked, “Stay with me?”

“Of course,” he answered. He looked over to Dimitri, still unconscious on the cot even though they had been talking for a while. “What about His Highness?”

Her words were mumbled against his neck in a way that made him shiver. “We were able to get all of his wounds looked over, and get him cleaned up. I had Rodrigue and the healers put him under a sleep spell so his body could continue to rest. He’s malnourished and he’s suffering from exhaustion, so the heat was too much for him.”

He couldn’t keep the surprise from his tone as he asked, “Rodrigue let you do that?”

“I didn’t give him a choice,” was her quiet reply, before she went completely slack against him, slipping back into slumber. He stared blankly into the distance as he considered whether the prospect of being a fly on the wall for that conversation was intriguing or terrifying.

The power dynamics within their friendship had always been somewhat strange. At first, he and Felix were obviously nobles, and she was a commoner. Then as their teacher, she held sway over everyone in the class, but he knew that if things truly needed to be considered, those born of nobility would always be the ones who won out. Now she was acting archbishop of the Church of Seiros, not to mention widely known as one blessed by the goddess herself. She was also the head commander of their rebellion. 

One of the most powerful people in Fodlan, if not THE most powerful, was sleeping in his lap. 

_Being Byleth’s friend is so strange._

He was pulled from his musings by the sound of Felix’s voice filtering through the fabric that covered the tent. A few moments later, the swordsman ducked his head in and surveyed the scene. His eyes narrowed with anger as they rested on Dimitri’s still form, but he shook his head and dropped it after a frustrated huff. He froze as his eyes landed on Byleth in his lap.

Felix whispered, “How is she?”

“Exhausted,” he quietly responded. Byleth didn’t even stir, proving how exhausted she truly was. He wondered if she’d be able to rest better because he was here now. He hoped that was the case.

“From the…” the ornery swordsman waved a hand aimlessly, probably not finishing his sentence when someone could potentially overhear them.

He nodded and because he knew Felix would want to ask, whispered, “Six times.” Felix’s eyes widened as his breath left him in a rush. “She mentioned she could use it more now. As far as I know, the most she had ever used it before was the four times on the day her father died.”

Felix sat down beside him and dropped his head to his hands with a growled, “Damn it.” They both stiffened when it was far louder than the rest of their conversation had been.

“Fe…” Byleth lifted her head, eyes still half-lidded as she looked toward the swordsman. 

The swordsman leaned forward to take her outstretched hand. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to wake you.”

“What…” she shook her head and blinked a few times like she was trying to wake herself up, “What didn’t you tell me?”

It was hard to tell in the dim of the covered wagon, but he could have sworn Felix went pale as a ghost. “What?”

“Sylvain said… you didn’t tell me something…” Felix looked at him accusingly and he shook his head, having absolutely no idea what she was talking about. “Wait…” she pouted, “That was before… I think I changed that…” Meaning that they had an entire conversation that neither he nor Felix could remember. Another weird thought. 

“It was… something about your father?” She furrowed her brows as she yawned into the back of her hand.

“Go back to sleep,” Felix gruffly ordered, “You’re obviously exhausted.”

“Wanna know first,” Byleth sleepily countered.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Felix sighed, dropping his head to his hands. “I’m not trying to keep things from you.”

“I asked you if you were ready to see him, and you said…” she paused to yawn again, “You said you were worried about him. Worried about how he’d react to seeing Dimitri.”

Felix’s face lit up with realization, before quickly returning to his usual hard stare. “I talked to my father… like you suggested,” he bashfully explained. Byleth sat up straighter, her eyes opening wider as she leaned toward Felix in fatigued interest. “I would have told you… It just… wasn’t a priority after coming back to you stuck in your slumber.” 

Byleth’s voice was so tender as she whispered, “Fe...”

Felix huffed, “I’ll tell you more when you aren’t exhausted from saving everyone’s lives, okay?” However, his features were amused as he stroked her hand with his thumb. 

She woefully sighed, “I only had to save lives because I risked them in the first place.”

“Hey,” Felix lightly grabbed her chin and tilted it toward him, “You couldn’t have known there was an ambush.”

She whimpered, “I should have made sure everyone was in formation. I should have made sure everyone was on alert. I should have—”

Felix sharply, but not unkindly, interrupted by saying, “It’s done. You’ve saved everyone with your quick thinking and your tactics.”

“It’s easy to have a plan when you know what’s going to happen,” she grumbled. She looked to be pouting, her chin still held between Felix’s fingers.

Felix clicked his tongue in disapproval before whispering, “Only you would be upset that you were able to pull off the perfect counter attack because you have the literal ability to turn back time.”

“None of that is me,” she whispered, her voice becoming far too vulnerable as she pulled away and buried her face in his chest, “All of that is Sothis’ power. I would be nothing without it.”

Felix looked almost alarmed at the admission, before his features fell into a frown. Sylvain stroked her hair back, trying to get her to look up at him as he whispered, “By…”

“I’m tired,” she whispered, barely loud enough for him to hear. She slipped out of his lap and curled up on the wood bench, tucking her hands below her head. After a moment of hesitation, Felix slipped off his jacket and draped it over her. She curled in on herself even more, clutching the jacket around herself in a way that made his chest ache.

Felix met his eyes, his gaze pleading like he was supposed to know what to do or say, but he had nothing. He shook his head lightly as he frowned, and Felix’s face fell. The swordsman stood and slipped past him, maneuvering himself until he was above her head. He sat and lightly reached down, hesitantly running a hand through her hair. She covered her face with Felix’s jacket, but didn’t pull away from the swordsman’s touch.

He and Felix watched over her as she finally drifted off to sleep. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's been a minute since I've had a chapter from all three POV. I know that Byleth's was super short, but I really wanted to see the ambush, and then see Felix's thoughts through the actual shitshow that was the battle. The next chapter will have more Byleth, I promise.
> 
> Byleth's ability to turn back time has been strengthened considerably, as has her connection with Sothis. For this battle she used it six times, which left her exhausted but not immobile. She doesn't know her limits yet. We'll see if she ever finds out what it is. *ominous music in the background*
> 
> I really want to explore Byleth's thoughts on the praise she receives for her tactical prowess and such. I can't imagine how it would feel to work hard your entire life, always honing your skill, and then be put on a pedestal because of some fluke (*cough cough* Rhea *cough cough*) putting the literal goddess of Fodlan in your head. 
> 
> If you have thoughts, let me know what they are in the comments.


	23. The One With The Art

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This isn't an additional chapter (sorry if I got your hopes up) 
> 
> I wanted to show off the AMAZING artwork I commissioned from an amazing artist I follow on Patreon. You can check out some of her other work on Tumblr @diadoescomics @diadoesart
> 
> The other art piece I had commissioned from @yzderia a few months ago is on my tumblr. @sunshineonacloudydayfe3h I'm new to that whole thing, and honestly it's mostly Felix and Sylvain stuff because I'm a hoe for them, but feel free to check it out. I'm going to start posting shorter fics on there--mainly the ones that I don't feel will get a bunch of traction on here or are far too short.
> 
> Thanks for being so awesome guys!

[What Sylvain wishes would have happened in Chapter 21](https://64.media.tumblr.com/dd0211cbdf9577b46b0a09623a818c60/c901a8db76c5ed62-24/s2048x3072/c709b788bc3c72fac2c880bebb1bc5f9a0db02a3.jpg)

Also known as "Sylvain is in heaven while Felix and Byleth are passed the eff out" or "My arms are dead but I'm never moving EVER AGAIN" 


	24. i can't breathe

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Chapter title is inspired by i can't breathe by Bea Miller
> 
> Byleth has an important conversation with Cichol and Cethleann, and finds answers she isn't sure she wanted. Then... a bad day gets worse.

~Byleth~

She hadn’t yet been able to shake the heavy feeling that had settled in her chest during the initial ambush in Ailell. Every time she shut her eyes, she saw Ingrid falling from the sky, heard the screams of the dying, or saw Sylvain lying motionless in Felix’s arms, his body and armor pierced by too many arrows. It certainly didn’t help that no matter where she rode, ate meals, or set up her tent, she heard other soldiers talking about it.

They were calling it a tactical marvel.

They were saying that she would go down in history as a brilliant tactician—one with the skill to successfully route an ambush in an inhospitable climate.

They couldn’t possibly know the way it made her feel like she was an imposter. They couldn’t possibly know that she had watched them all die, and only due to her goddess given ability to turn back time had she been able to save them.

She wasn’t a tactician, or a great commander.

She was a fraud.

Everyone was hovering again. Felix and Sylvain could definitely tell that something was going on, and they weren’t being sneaky with the worried glances they kept sending her way. Unfortunately, the others seemed to have also caught on. Without really knowing what was wrong, the Lions and her other close friends seemed to be going out of their way to come and talk to her, joke with her, bring her food, or simply check on her.

She loved them all, and she appreciated the fact that they cared enough about her to be worried, but all she wanted right now was to be alone—something that was impossible at the best of times with her new position, and only made worse with the organized chaos that came with marching with an army. 

She ended up spending a lot of time in the medical wagon, sitting with Dimitri. She had missed her golden lion cub, and even though it was depressing that the only time she could speak to him was when he was placed under a magical slumber, she took advantage of the opportunity. She held his hand, combed out the unruly tangles in his hair—leaving the length because she knew he wasn’t going to appreciate all that they had done so far and she figured he would only be angered further by a terrible haircut—and most importantly, talked to him.

The day they were in his room, when she promised that she would stay by him and help him through the darkness in his mind, all felt like a few weeks ago. With Dimitri like this, she could close her eyes and picture her young golden lion cub, his flustered face, his shorter hair, his promises to stay beside her.

Or what he’d said on the pier one early morning after her father had died. _“Know that your enemies are my enemies. I will do all I can to help you find justice. There is no one else I can…”_

No one else he could what? Had he come to rely and depend on her, only for her to leave him, just as his father and Glenn had before her? In the dark solitude of the wagon, she allowed herself to cry for Dima, before stroking his cheek as she vowed, “Know that your enemies are my enemies. I will do all I can to help you find justice. You, Glenn, your father, the people of Duscur, all those that lost their lives because of the machinations of this shadow group. We’ll find Thales and his lot, and we’ll stop them from hurting anyone else in the way they hurt you. I swear it. If it will give you peace, if it will help you come back to us… I will do whatever it takes. But I cannot allow you to sink further into this darkness.”

They pulled to a stop, most likely for the evening, and soon afterward she heard a knock against the side wood of the wagon. She tried to mentally prepare herself for more fussing as she wiped her face to clear it of any of her prior display of emotion, but she was surprised to find that it was Lord Rodrigue who entered.

His smile was kind as he looked between herself and Dimitri laid out on the cot, but it was soon overshadowed by something that looked a lot like grief. He seemed to physically shake the heavy emotion away before addressing her. “You’ve spent quite a bit of the journey back to the monastery in here.”

She nodded sheepishly, releasing Dimitri’s hand. “I’m sorry. As ridiculous as it sounds, this is the only opportunity I’ve had to spend time with Dimitri. I’ve been so worried about him… and I know it feels like five years for all of you… but for me…”

Rodrigue shook his head while smiling a sad sort of smile. “It must be confusing, reconciling your students from five years ago with the adults you stand with today.” He looked toward Dimitri again and released a heavy sigh. “Would you mind if I joined you?” 

She shook her head and waved to the seat beside her, moving to place her hand beside Dimitri’s without clasping it fully. She wished he could know she was here with him, but she knew that he would wake up and none of it would matter anyway.

There was a comfortable silence between them as both of them looked over the older and far more scarred Dimitri laid out on the cot. Rodrigue broke the silence with a clearing of his throat, and when next he spoke, his voice was strained with emotion. “I keep recalling my eldest son… He was quite gifted. In fact, he was appointed a knight at the age of fifteen. I still vividly remember the day he was granted a sword by His Majesty.”

“Glenn…” As she whispered the name, she could see his handsome face grimly set in determination as he fought against those who were pursuing his friend—his prince. She tried to remember that version of him, not the one that looked so frightened as he lay on the ground dying. She felt it would be a disservice to him, after all that she had learned of him from those that loved him.

“I’m sure you know he was killed nine years ago in Duscur. All that returned of him that day were his sword and his armor…” He bowed his head and paused, seeming to struggle with his next words. “When the knights came to tell us of what happened, I cannot tell you the grief I felt. To lose a child like that, it is something I wouldn’t wish on my worst enemy. However, because of my actions… I lost both of my sons that day. I said something horrible to Felix. He’s hated me ever since… and I don’t blame him.”

She reached over to clasp Rodrigue’s hand, startling him enough to make him look up at her. His light blue eyes were clouded with grief, even nine years later. She considered telling him all that she knew, but thought better of it. That wasn’t really a conversation that should be taken lightly. Perhaps she would speak with Felix about it first. 

“I imagine you were grieving, yourself. Sometimes we say things we don’t mean when our minds are clouded by our loss.” She had certainly said and done things she didn’t wholly mean in the wake of her father’s death. Thinking back on how she acted that first morning after spending time in Sothis’ throne room still made her cringe.

He shook his head firmly, squeezing her hand gently before letting it go. “It seems foolish now, but I know in my heart that I meant what I said that day. I grew up hearing stories of my ancestors, driving in the concept of our duty to the Blaiddyd line…” He paused as his gaze distant, like he was picturing the stories he had heard long ago, or perhaps remembering those that had told them. “I should tell you it’s not that I was proud my son had passed—it was that I felt the fact that he had given his life for His Highness, gave my son’s wrongful death a purpose. It wasn’t until recently that I realized how very wrong I was to view my son’s death the way I did—and worse still, pressured Felix to be just like Glenn—and I have a feeling that it may be because of you.”

She tilted her head in confusion. “Because of me?” 

Rodrigue chuckled softly and shook his head. “Allow me to explain. Felix left Fraldarius to attend the Officer’s Academy as a stubborn teenager, but he arrived home after the fall of the monastery a man. A man with a broken heart, but a man all the same.” She looked away from Rodrigue’s kind gaze, swallowing heavily around the lump in her throat. “Nearly five years later, he left on his quest to the monastery a man with little faith in anything beside his blade, but returned to our home as someone who believed in something—as someone who believed in you. He taught me a lesson that day, one that I will never forget.”

He placed a hand on her shoulder, and she turned to meet his blue-eyed gaze. “I have little doubt that he only told me his feelings because of something you had said or done. Never in my lifetime did I think that Felix would be the one to reach over the divide that we had allowed to form between us in an attempt to rebuild what had been broken by my foolish words nine years prior. For whatever you said, or did, I thank you. It seems I owe you an immeasurable debt, one that is not easily repaid.”

She bowed her head as she whispered, “I left him… I left all of them… I’m only trying to fix what I have broken.”

“The weight that you carry on your shoulders is far too much for anyone to bear,” Rodrigue softly consoled her. He gently but firmly guided her to look at him as he insisted, “I know that you would not have left them if you had any choice in the matter, and the fact that you’ve come back from the dead to assist those you care about is a feat that all others have been unable to accomplish. You are here now, and your students and friends know that.”

She shook her head and glanced to her sleeping lion. “Dima doesn’t… I swore I was going to stay with him, I promised to stay by his side as he tried to make his way through this darkness, but I left him. I left him, and now he’s… he’s lost amongst his rage and his demons.” 

Rodrigue’s eyes widened at the nickname, but soon the surprise was replaced by a sad smile. “I fear I am not strong enough to scold His Highness for his foolishness, though I know someone must.”  
“He’s going to get himself killed,” she cried, frustration and grief burning in her chest and behind her eyes, “Not only that, he’s going to take others down with him. It’s becoming impossible to keep everyone alive…” She ran her hands through her tangled hair with a frustrated groan. “And we’ve barely begun!” 

Lord Rodrigue encompassed one of her hands in both his own. “I will be here to help you… in any way I can.”

She squeezed his hand and tried to smile, though the strain in her cheeks told her it had probably been a failed attempt. “We should probably wake him soon.”

“I can do it whenever you wish me to.” He nodded slowly. “I know I was reluctant at first, but I agree that he needed the rest. However, I fear how he will react when he awakes.”

She shook her head firmly, her lips set in a thin line. “I will take the blame. There is no need to cause hostility toward you as well.”

Rodrigue hummed thoughtfully and commented, “So, _that_ is the reason my son’s sword was pointed at His Highness when I arrived.”

She wearily sighed, “I’m afraid so…” She glanced toward him as she said, “I’m so sorry.”

“Do not be sorry. As much as I wish my son had the desire to protect His Highness, I have known that he did not feel the same sense of duty and love I had for Lambert for a long time. I’m not sure when it happened, but Felix no longer cares for Dimitri as he once did. If he was willing to go to such lengths...” He didn't finish the sentence. Perhaps he couldn't make himself say the words.

She hummed in acknowledgement, staring down at her lap. “It seems like you were really close with King Lambert…”

Rodrigue’s tone was wistful as he explained, “He was my closest friend, not unlike my son and Sylvain. We attended the Officer’s Academy together. I remember frequently skipping lectures with Lambert so we could cause trouble.” 

She somewhat indignantly pointed out, “Felix and Sylvain never skipped my lectures. Though, they did cause me plenty of trouble.”

“We didn’t have a professor anything like you,” Rodrigue chuckled, a soft smile melting away the last of the grief that had worn down his features. “He was an ornery old man, a third son of a minor Lord from the Kingdom, and not nearly as skilled or adept as you were as a professor. The Lions were fortunate to have you as a professor, and all of Fodlan is fortunate that you have come back to help us end this war.”

She shook her head. “Fodlan is only in this mess because of my failures.” She should have tried to get Edelgard to open up more. She should have gotten help for Dimitri sooner. She should have never gone after Rhea. She should have—

Rodrigue’s wry chuckle pulled her mind from its downward spiral. “I’m not certain that the fate of a continent could rest on even your shoulders.”

She had to bite back a bitter retort of, _“If only you knew…”_

They ended up waking Dimitri the next afternoon—just before their arrival to the monastery. Unfortunately, he reacted as poorly as she and Rodrigue had expected. The first thing he demanded was his armor—which she had taken so she could have it repaired once they arrived back at the monastery. If he was going to be reckless in battle, he should at least have armor that wasn’t falling apart from lack of maintenance. He’d seethed in the face of her refusal to give it back, then had quickly asked for a weapon. One of the knights hesitantly gave the prince his own steel lance, and said prince promptly took a horse and rode quickly in the direction of the monastery, bitterly cursing her name as he did so.

Gilbert and Ingrid exchanged glances before they both took off after him, as Rodrigue watched them depart with a look somewhere between bitter disappointment and grief.

“I will come with you to report to Seteth,” he murmured, mounting to ride on her right. Felix was at her left flank, with Sylvain riding silently beside him.

“I’ll have someone prepare the old Captain’s quarters for you. Hopefully you and Gloriana will be comfortable enough there.”

Sympathy softened Rodrigue’s features as he nodded, probably realizing that he would be staying in her father’s old quarters. Alois—as the current acting Captain of the Knights of Seiros—had declined staying in the Captain’s quarters, citing the fact that he could never take the Captain’s place. As such, the rooms had been empty for quite some time. She had almost given the position to someone else, but had thankfully been able to convince Alois—her self-proclaimed “big brother”—that taking the position would be the best way to help her.

After their arrival, she and Rodrigue handed off their horses and immediately headed to Seteth’s office to find her advisor with Felix, Sylvain, and a few others in tow. He took them to the guarded Cardinal room, where she reported everything that had happened in Ailell to Seteth—joined by Manuela, Hanneman, Flayn, and a few others who had wormed their way into the room, eager to hear all that had happened. 

She wasn’t able to properly mentally prepare herself for the outward displays of awe that broke out on the faces of those listening to her report. Eventually her curt report was proving unsatisfactory, and Yuri stepped in to give more details, helped along from Rodrigue’s perspective on the battle.

Hanneman put a hand to his chin as he mused, "You grow stronger with each passing day. Where does your talent end and your Crest's power begin? Are they one and the same, I wonder? Most intriguing. Yet it is quite difficult to draw useful conclusions, given the situation."

Felix immediately barked, “She was able to route the ambush due to her own quick thinking,” narrowing his eyes at the Crest scholar, “To discount her efforts due to her Crest is doing her a disservice.” She looked off to the side and folded her arms behind her back, able to feel Sylvain’s worried gaze on her. 

Seteth chimed in, “I must admit that I agree. You have done incredibly well thus far, Lady Byleth.” She nodded in quiet thanks; her face settled in that careful neutrality she usually donned in these types of situations. She’d been able to convince Seteth to call her Byleth in private, though he often used honorifics around mixed company.

She interjected, “With Lord Rodrigue’s arrival, I feel morale will be strengthened among the Knights of Seiros as well as the Kingdom rebellion fighters. I was hoping to put he and Gloriana in the Captain’s quarters, though Alois will remain in the position as Captain.”

Seteth nodded. “I’m certain Cyril will be willing to help prepare the rooms. I will ask him presently.” 

Seteth began to walk toward the door, but she called out, “Seteth?” He turned back to glance at her, his expression as neutral as her own. “I require a meeting with you this evening to discuss other matters that have previously been pushed to the side.” She raised her eyebrow the barest amount, and watched the resignation filter into Seteth’s features.

He turned fully in her direction to bow to her. “Of course, Lady Byleth. I will clear my evening, and will await you in my office after you have had the opportunity to get cleaned up.”

She nodded her head in gratitude and softly said, “Thank you, Seteth.” He nodded and quickly walked out the door.

She turned to the others present and ordered, “Take the evening to rest and recover. We will meet tomorrow to begin planning our next steps.” Various nods and murmurs of agreement filled the room as everyone filed out the door, of course leaving Felix and Sylvain behind—because when did they ever think they were included in her orders?

She tried to remain relaxed as she said, “You guys should go and get some rest.”

Felix was the one to narrow his eyes and ask, “What are you meeting with Seteth about?”

She easily replied, “Things that have been pushed to the side until now.” She turned toward the door and nodded through it, and the men followed her out the door. Unfortunately, the knights were still waiting outside, and they too followed her as she walked down the hallway.

“What things?” Sylvain gently asked, taking her left flank as Felix took her right.

“Church stuff that I wasn’t able to focus on until now.” It was a lie, but she knew she couldn’t tell them what she was actually meeting with Seteth about. She could hardly say ‘Saint Cichol is going to tell me all about the history of his mother—the goddess—and his brothers and sisters, whom Fodlan has been praising as Saints.’

Sylvain took a few wider steps until he could lightly grab her wrist, pulling her to a stop. She looked up into caramel eyes as he softly entreated, “You need time to rest, as well. Come with us?”

She insisted, “This stuff is too important to be left for another day.”

Felix snorted and crossed his arms. “When has Church stuff ever been too important to leave for another day?” Unfortunately, he had her there. One of the knights behind them let out a huffed breath of annoyance at the swordsman's _audacity_ … he must be newer.

“I’ll be fine,” she forced, carefully pulling her arm out of Sylvain’s grasp. “You two should go and get some rest… enjoy some down time.”

Felix shook his head. “My father announced a small feast this afternoon while you were in the medical wagon with the boar. You should be there.”

She had a feeling this little meeting of theirs was going to take a while. She began walking again as she dismissively said, “I probably won’t be able to, but you two have fun.”

“Felix and I could come to the meeting with you?” Sylvain offered, “Or we could steal some food for you and bring it up to your room tonight?”

She released a frustrated breath and turned to look back at them. Sylvain’s face was open and eager, juxtaposed against Felix’s guarded gaze. “I will be fine,” she insisted yet again, “I’m going to bathe, meet with Seteth, and then retire for the evening. You should go and enjoy an evening to yourselves. You are relieved of whatever duties you think you have.”

Felix rolled his eyes. “Duties? Seriously?”

She turned on her heel and walked purposefully down the hallway, followed by the heavy footsteps of the knights that were apparently going to follow her now. She called back, “Have a good night.” She listened and found that Felix and Sylvain’s footsteps didn’t follow. They needed time alone. They had been hovering around her ever since she had woken from her month long slumber, and she had heard that Sylvain never left her side while Felix bossed everyone around in effort to keep her safe. They were young, in love. They deserved to have a night to rest and enjoy one another's company. 

And she really couldn't talk about her meeting with Seteth.

She took her time bathing and getting dressed, mostly due to the fact that her mind was racing with the possibilities of what she would hear from Cichol. She found Cichol and Cethleann waiting for her when she entered Cichol’s office. Cethleann was quick to run up and give her a hug, though the entire embrace she was staring at Cichol over her shoulder, who was watching her with a gaze she remembered using often when teaching some of her students how to fight—a guarded gaze, one not quite hiding the concern. 

“We should discuss these matters elsewhere,” the Saint mused, his arms stiffly tucked behind his back. “I was considering the Holy Tomb, if it suits you. That way we can be certain we are not overheard.”

“I have no issue with that, though I believe there are soldiers partaking in the festivities.”

“Word of your blessing on the land has circulated. I’m sure they will speculate that you are praying to the goddess for safety or some such holy matter.” She bit back a sigh and nodded, following Cichol as he exited and headed in the direction of the Holy Tomb.

The feast had already begun in the dining hall, but as often happened, the festivities had spilled out into the surrounding courtyards. She called the order to clear the area of the gazebo that led to the Holy Tomb, unfortunately garnering more attention.

“I thought you weren’t coming.” She turned to face Felix, who’s face had enough of a flush for her to realize he’d been drinking. She was glad he was taking a moment to enjoy himself.

“I’m not. We’re going into the Holy Tomb.” She knew they would hear about it anyway, what was the point in trying to keep it from them?

“Why?” Felix’s gaze hardened, even as Sylvain put his hands on his shoulders to try and calm him.

“Because I wish to?” 

“Why?” he repeated.

“Please, go and have fun. I’ll see you both tomorrow for war council.” She smiled and waved, both of their gazes on her, as well as a crowd of other people who were watching from the entrances to the gardens, and entered the compartment to the Holy Tomb.

“The young Fraldarius boy is unhappy with you,” Cichol commented, sparing a glance that direction as he pulled the lever to take them down into the Tomb.

“Father,” Cethleann groaned.

She shook her head. “He doesn’t like this place.”

Cichol frowned and nodded his head. “It’s a shame that such a reverent place is looked upon so poorly by others now. This was once a place that was most sacred to our people. The _emperor_ —" he said the word with distaste, “has tarnished one of the last places we held dear.”

“Why was Edelgard after the Crest Stones in the first place? What are they? Do they really create her Demonic Beasts?”

Cichol sighed, and his shoulder drooped as if she had placed a physical weight on them. “Perhaps it would make more sense if I started at the beginning? You may ask whatever questions you have when I have finished my tale, I just worry there will be gaps in your knowledge if I don’t tell it start to finish.” His voice was heavy with something—perhaps grief or fatigue. She nodded as they reached the bottom and the compartment slid open, and she took another opportunity to look over the Holy Tomb. 

They began walking, making their way in the general direction of the stairs at the base of Sothis’ throne. Cichol sighed again, but seemed to steel himself as he met her gaze. “Mother told us that she dwelled amongst the stars before she came to Fodlan. It seemed she had a fondness for humanity and the complexities that came with being human. Back then, humans were far more primitive, and she took pity upon them. She took a human form and began to dwell among them, and when they had earned her favor, she decided to let them partake of her vast knowledge so that they might progress. She taught them the usage of magic, counseled them on ways to build up their civilizations, and did many other things to help foster their growth.”

“As a result, many countries formed over the expanse of the vast continent. Thinis, Malum, Agartha, Septen, Llium, and many others began to thrive under Mother’s guidance. Mother loved them deeply, and considered many of them family. However, generations pass on so quickly when you are like us. Soon she became… lonely.” The word came out strained, and sorrow welled within her. How long had Cichol been hurting and lonely like this? He had Cethleann and Seiros, but did that truly mean much when humans pass on so quickly? How devastating must it be to become close to people, only to watch them age and die without the ability to do anything but stand by?

“Eventually, her loneliness became harder and harder for her to bear, until one day she had an idea. She decided to create children of her own. She called us, Nabateans. Seiros was the first of us, and the one that was favored by mother the most because of it, I imagine,” he said it with a sad smile. “Then came Macuil, myself, Indech, and so many others that are…” he paused with a shake of his head, “…they are all gone. Even though so much time has passed, that sorrow still feels overwhelming at times.”

“Just as humans have different strengths, so did each of us. Mother fostered our strengths, and helped each of us to grow until we felt strong enough to go out into the world and help others the way she did. Some decided to stay with her, unwilling to leave our mother—Seiros being one of them. I do not know much of what happened with mother at that time, as I had moved on to a different part of Fodlan. As I was helping a civilization near what is now known as the Rhodos Coast, I met a human woman named Briesif.” A sorrowful fondness touched his features, and Cethleann sniffled softly at the name. She reached over to take her hand, and Cethleann leaned her head on her shoulder with a sad smile.

“I was the first to fall in love with a human,” Seteth explained in a wistful tone, “but I was not the last. When I took Briesif to meet Mother, she worried for us. She knew what it was to watch the ones you love grow old and die, only for the world to forget they ever existed in the first place with the inevitable passage of time. Human life is but the blink of an eye when you live as long as we do, but the pain that comes from loving someone who’s passed on…” As his sentence trailed off, he put a hand over his heart, as if he could touch his ache. “Mother hoped to shield us from that pain. She gave us her blessing, and devised a way to share her blood with those we held dear, that their lives could be extended, just as ours were.”

She swallowed heavily and quietly asked, “Like my father?”

Cichol nodded solemnly. “Seiros told me the tale of a young man who threw himself in the path of a blow that was meant for her. She took pity on him, and decided to share her blood with him, that he might survive. It extended his lifespan, though it goes to show that oftentimes humans are not prepared for the consequences that come from us meddling in their affairs.”

She furrowed her eyebrows in confusion and asked, “What do you mean?”

“I will… explain in a moment,” Cichol assured. She reluctantly nodded and remained quiet so he could continue his story. “Peace and prosperity pervaded the land, but as often happens with humans, prosperity led to conflict. I cannot tell you what started it all, the whims of humans are so fickle to me at times, no matter how long I spend among them. All of us tried to help keep the humans from war, Mother the most of all of us. However, looking back… I think our involvement may have made things even worse. The humans saw us as… divine. They wished to have that divinity for themselves. When mother denied them this, they were furious. They felt she was being malicious in keeping it from them, but she knew that if all were to have the power we possessed, it would only lead to more conflict.”

“I forget who created the first weapon,” he sighed deeply, “such things have faded from my memory. Once the first country created a weapon, it became a twisted competition, or rather, what they must have felt was a race for survival. Mages and researchers attempted to create weapons of destruction, and once the fighting began in earnest, Mother called us back to Zanado.” Cichol’s gaze became conflicted as he explained, “She did not wish for us to be part of the fighting. The children of Sothis had a home established here in the mountains, farther away from the human’s conflict. I believe Seiros was the one who insisted that Mother stop giving her knowledge to the humans, entirely, as soon as we realized they were twisting it to make weapons.”

The vision started so suddenly that she tripped, thankfully Cichol reached out and caught her. Worried faces surrounded her as Seiros paced in an elegant throne room. Seiros was urging her to withhold her gifts from the humans because they are becoming a danger to her and her children. A man stepped forward—her mind unconsciously provided the name Macuil—agreed with Seiros. Another man—again, something in her supplied a name… Indech—disagreed. He argued that Cethleann’s existence meant that they could dwell peacefully.

She gasped for breath for a moment and then muttered, “Seiros and Macuil wished for her to pull away her influence. Indech was fond of the humans, and he felt that Cethleann’s existence was a sign you could continue to coexist.”

Cichol examined her with wide eyes before nodding slowly, helping her to stand up fully as she regained her surroundings. “That sounds… fairly accurate. How did you…?”

“I’m not sure,” she sighed, rubbing her temples where a dull ache throbbed, “I see what must be Sothis’ memories at times. They are triggered by the weirdest things. I just saw a group of her children in some sort of throne room. It must have been before you traveled back to Zanado, because you weren’t there.”

“Briesif had Cethleann shortly before the war began in earnest,” Cichol explained with his hand on his chin. “I waited until Mother came and insisted that we return at once. We had built a life together, and Cethleann was still just a babe. We didn’t wish to leave, but eventually, we didn’t have a choice. Humans from one of the countries created a weapon—they called it a ‘Falling Star’.” Even saying the words caused a small shudder to run through him, and gooseflesh covered her skin. “I forget which country created the first, but the destruction they caused utterly destroyed wherever they landed. It poisoned everything, making it so the land couldn’t recover.”

Solon’s last words came to her mind unbidden, as well as his distorted features as he bellowed, _“…you’ll watch your world burn, Fell Star!”_

“Gilbert told me that a pillar of light fell on the Valley of Ailell, borne of the Goddess’ rage.”

Emerald eyes searched her face as Cichol prodded, “Did you believe him?” 

“No. It was something far more sinister. I could feel it in the air when I was there, like magic after a long battle.” She paused and asked, “Do these weapons still exist?”

“I do not think so,” Cichol shook his head. “As far as I am aware, the knowledge of how to build such things has been lost to history.” He paused, tapping his chin. “Where… oh, yes. All of mother’s children were forced to flee to the canyon, where Mother’s blessing could protect us. The very same blessing you renewed in Zanado before your month-long slumber.” 

His gaze became outwardly fond as he reached over and grabbed her hand. “I’m not sure why you did it, but I feel I must thank you. Zanado is now a place full of life. There is so much grief and sorrow tied to that land, but the fact that it is no longer a deserted wasteland brings a sort of comfort I wasn’t aware I could feel until I took flight on Esme after you had collapsed.”

“I’m not sure why I did it, myself,” she answered as she squeezed Cichol’s calloused hand. “All I know is that Sothis was trying to ask me to. It’s hard to explain. I’m glad it could grant you a small comfort, though.”

“Does she still… communicate with you?” he asked, something hopeful in his gaze. 

“Not as she once did,” she confessed. “The last time I heard her truly speak with me was when I woke up in the river. Everything since then has been through her memories. I’m not sure why she can’t speak to me as she once did, but… I miss her terribly.” With a shake of her head, she quickly added, “Though, not as much as you probably do.”

“From what you’ve said, she was with you always. I can’t imagine how it must have felt to have her presence suddenly be gone… Taken away so soon after the passing of your father.” He frowned as he shook his head. “You too have suffered greatly.”She looked down at her feet as she fought off grief of her own at mention of her father. 

Cichol cleared his throat and took up telling his story again. “As the war continued to rage and destruction spread across the continent, many others traveled into the mountains to seek protection from Mother. Soon humans and Nabateans dwelled within, and mother was the only one to venture out in attempts to broker peace between what was left of the warring nations.”

Something crept into the air then, a heaviness that weighted on Cichol’s features and sent apprehension through her. “Once… when she went to try and meet with one of the last leaders still remaining… they attacked her. They foolishly blamed the war on her influence. They were so twisted with their own hatred, they believed her the cause of all of their own destruction. They threatened to do whatever it took to destroy Zanado. And… left with no other choice… Mother unleashed her power on them. I remember when she returned, her grief stricken features as she told us what she had done. She felt there was no other way. She had to save her children. She had to save what remained of humanity.”

It felt like ice flowed through her veins as her hands began to tremble. “She… she killed them all?” 

Cichol nodded, his eyes filled with grief. “Faced with the wrath of the Progenitor God, they didn’t stand a chance. What remained of humanity was wiped from the face of Fodlan.”

A chill went down her spine. Her mind produced images of Sothis healing the land, then twisted the images. Death and destruction spread from her, rather than life and abundance. She could see why Sothis would think to do so—it eliminated the threat completely by destroying everything—but was all of that death truly justified?

“That’s when she healed the continent,” Byleth quietly supplied. Cichol nodded, he stared into the distance unseeing, as if he was looking into the past he spoke of. “I saw her fly over the continent, and I felt the magic she used to heal the land. That’s when she fell asleep… isn’t it?”

“Yes,” Cichol whispered. “The power necessary to heal the continent was too much, even for her. She fell into a deep slumber in order to restore her power.” He cleared his throat as he opened his arms and gestured around them. “Seiros ordered the Holy Tomb to be built so that mother could have a safe resting place. Magic was cast here that created phantom warriors, just like the ones we faced a few weeks ago. Macuil is the one who created the golems to guard the tomb, should anyone be foolish enough to enter. Then, most of us went out into the newly healed land. We sought out the survivors, and slowly began to rebuild.”

“But then her body was desecrated,” she gritted out, memories of her dream echoing in her mind. 

Cichol’s eyes widened in horror as he fearfully asked, “You’ve… you know what happened?”

“All I felt was dark magic and pain,” she explained in a strained voice, even now she could feel the agonizing burning and hear echoes of the dark mages’ chanting. “They were chanting as my sp—”

“Please,” Cichol pleaded reaching out to take her hand in a near painful grip. “I can’t… please don’t.” Cethleann walked over to wrap her arms around her father’s shoulders, laying her head against his back. “I’m not sure how they did it,” he explained in a haunted whisper, “but Nemesis and his men invaded the Holy Tomb with a group of powerful dark mages. They took Mother’s body and they…” he bowed his head and didn’t continue.

“They what?” she prodded, apprehension coiling under her skin. “Why did they do what they did? What could they possibly hope to gain from hurting her like that?”

“They wished to make her power their own,” Seteth replied in that same haunted tone, “So they took her bones, and they crafted a weapon.” Her stomach turned as her hand moved to grasp the pommel of the Sword of the Creator at her hip. “They took her lifeblood, and they gave it to Nemesis so he could have the power to wield that… horrifying weapon.”

“What weapon?” she brokenly whispered, something in her already knowing the answer, but needing the confirmation.

“The Sword of the Creator,” he shuddered.

The words struck her like a Thoron spell, making her body tremble as she dropped her head to her hands. She had been fighting with a weapon formed from her dearest friend’s very bones. Another realization had her swallowing bile that climbed up her throat, fighting to try not to throw up. Cethleann rushed toward her and held her hair back as she bent over and became violently ill, weeping bitterly all the while.

The Hero’s Relics… they are made from the remains of Sothis’ children. She could see it in her mind’s eye as she continued to be sick and her weeping turned into wails of bitter grief. She could see the Red Canyon, the macabre mixture of dragon and human of Sothis’ sons and daughters as the mages used their magic to twist their forms and gather their bones and blood. She could see Areadbhar, Thyrsus, Luin… she could see all of them. 

She wasn’t sure how long she knelt on the cold floor. It felt like the churning in her stomach would never end as she continued to weep, but with a heavy wash of faith magic, her stomach relaxed.  
Images continued to flash before her from all of the death and destruction. She wasn’t sure whether Sothis was forcing these on her, or if her own mind was fixated on them from the shock. Both of her hands grasped at her head as she pleaded, “Sothis… stop! I can’t… it’s too much!” The gruesome images, combined with the overflow of rage and bitter grief were too much for her brain to process. 

Cichol rubbed her back gently as he softly asked, “Do you wish to rest now?” having knelt down beside her at some point. “We can discuss more when you are able.”

“I can make it stop, Professor,” Cethleann offered, “I can put you to sleep and that may—"

“No,” she grabbed Cethleann’s wrist, below the hand that was already glowing green with the necessary spell, “I need to know. I need to know why.”

Cichol’s sorrow was evident as he shook his head. “It is too much for you—it is too much for anyone. I can tell you more when—" 

“Cichol,” she grabbed his hand, shocking him into silence. “I can… I can wield all of them. The Lance of Ruin and the Aegis shield respond to my touch.” His eyes widened in disbelief as her sight became blurry with tears. “They all respond to me. All of her children… they respond to me.”

“I’m so sorry,” he sorrowfully whispered, “I… this is all so much for you to bear.”

“Why me?” she desperately pleaded, “Why is it me? I don’t understand!” Why was Sothis stuck with her in the first place? Why were they connected? Why does she bear the Crest of Flames? Why is all of this tragedy tied to her, to this war, to her destiny?

“I think… I think I should tell you the circumstances by which I came to the monastery. I think... you deserve to know.” Cichol sat back on his heels and moved to standing, pulling her up and gently leading her to sit on the stairs at the base of Sothis throne. “Twenty-six years ago, Seiros journeyed to find Cethleann and I, where we were in hiding. She was… she was devastated. She had just lost her daughter, and her daughter’s widower had fled the monastery with her granddaughter.”

The world seemed to tip to the side, and she felt like she might throw up again. She put both hands to her head as Cethleann shrieked, “You mean to say that the Professor is actually Serios’ granddaughter?!” Cethleann didn’t know… she didn’t know… but Cichol did.

“Seiros… is my grandmother?” The woman who saw her as a vessel for the goddess—as a vessel for her own mother’s resurrection—was the only family she had left?! She turned to stare at Cichol, who shook his head lightly.

“Not in the way you may be assuming. You see… Seiros told the others at the monastery that an infant had been abandoned here, and she had adopted it—taking the babe to raise as her own. But… I suspect that was not it.” He stopped, seeming to struggle with finding the right words.

“She told me that my mother was a nun here. She told me that my mother gave her life for mine, and that my father never accepted that.”

Cichol nodded. “You must try to understand… Seiros… she has been desperately trying to find a way to resurrect Mother for centuries. She begged Macuil to help her find a way to harness Mother’s power… the power of the Progenitor God, to create a body. A vessel that could house Mother and her power.”

“What…?” All of the blood drained from her face. “You mean… I…”

“No,” Cichol looked at her earnestly and softly explained, “Your mother…”

“Sitri? She was…” Cichol nodded, and tears filled her eyes. “So, when she gave her life for my own…?” 

“I cannot be sure, only Seiros knows what truly happened the day you were born, but…” he looked to her with tears in his eyes, “I believe she took Mother’s heart from Sitri, and placed it in you.”

Tears spilled down her cheeks as she whimpered, “I don’t… I don’t have a heartbeat.”

“Neither do I,” Cichol stated, taking her hand and placing it on his chest, “My ‘heart’ is what you call a Crest Stone, just as those of my other brothers and sisters were. I don’t know whether you have always been like Cethleann and I, or if whatever happened in the Sealed Forrest was what truly changed you, but—"

Her breath left her in a painful rush. She croaked, “You think I’m Nabatean? You think I’m like you?”

“Your hair and your eyes were the initial indicator… It was confirmed to me when we found you here at the monastery, and when you showed me your scar.” He pointed to her torso, where the scar from the Sword of the Creator marred her flesh. “Then there were the subtler changes that have been happening since then…”

“What?” 

“Well… Nabateans, our human forms look just that… human. Though, there are subtle differences that set us apart. Our ears,” he pushed his hair back to reveal his own, “and the fact that we bare sharper canine teeth,” he smiled widely and turned his head to the side and her eyes widened. 

How had she never noticed?

“If you don’t know what to look for, most don’t even notice. I fear you may not have even noticed your own changes.”

She whispered, “What?”

“Your ears have begun to develop a point, and your teeth have become slightly sharper. I noticed it when we found you after your extended slumber.” Her hands moved to her ears, and began to tremble as she realized that—though it was subtle—Cichol was correct. Her tongue moved to her canine’s, moving along the pointed edge. 

“Does that… does that mean that…” She couldn’t speak the words. Her breathing was picking up as panic set in.

Cichol nodded solemnly, almost as though he knew her exact thought. “I believe it does.”

Her voice was barely above a whisper as she said, “I’ll live as long as you have.”

Cichol’s eyes held so much sadness and sympathy as he reached out to take her hand. “I cannot predict that. We are not immortal. We can still die by other means, but we do not age as humans do, nor do we fall to the illnesses that plague mankind. It is harder to kill us, as evidenced by your own experience,” her hand moved to where her scar was, “because we have the ability to fall into a restorative sleep. As long as our body is not disturbed, we slowly heal ourselves.”

Cethleann nodded, her face grave as she wrung her hands in front of herself. “I was gravely wounded in the War of Heroes, when we battled against Nemesis and his forces. I fell into a slumber, and slept for centuries.”

A hysterical laugh bubbled from her throat, slowly growing loud enough to echo in the massive stone chamber. “I’ve been searching this whole time—wondering why Sothis was stuck with me, why she gave me her powers, why she fused herself with me to save my life. And you’re telling me that… You’re telling me that it’s chance? It’s not fate, nor destiny… It’s my father being in the wrong place at the wrong time?!” Her voice climbed in volume as Cichol and Cethleann’s faces filled with looks of pity. 

“I’m just another… experiment. Created in an attempt to resurrect the goddess. And now I’m going to watch as my students… my _friends_ grow old and die, while I stay young?!”

“We will be with you…” Cethleann softly interjected. The hope and earnestness in her expression felt like a dagger to her apparently made of stone heart.

“Don’t I get a choice?!” she rasped, clinging to Cichol’s shoulders, “This is… this is my life?!”

“I’m so sorry,” Cichol whispered, “Seiros she—”

“Fuck Seiros. Fuck all of this.” She stood from the stairs, pulled the Sword of the Creator from her belt and pushed it into Cichol’s chest. “I can’t… I can’t be here right now.” Without looking back, she sprinted to the compartment and flipped the lever she’d seen Cichol use the last time they were down here. Cethleann called her name—the first time she could ever remember her using it—but she ignored it, watching Cichol hush his daughter as the compartment closed and she began to rise to the surface.

Her whole body vibrated as her ragged breathing sounded out through the stone compartment. She clawed at her chest, as if she could take out her own heart—SOTHIS’ HEART—and put an end to all of this. Her eyes burned as fresh tears began to spill down her cheeks, and a broken sob was ripped from her chest, enough to cause her to bend forward, too emotional to even stand properly.

The stone compartment came to a stop, and she used every ounce of willpower she had to pull herself together as the door slid open…

Only to reveal Felix and Sylvain waiting just outside.

Because, of course they were.

Amber and caramel eyes blew wide as they both worriedly asked, “What happened?” But she ignored them, sprinting toward the exit of the gardens. She could hear both of them calling her name, but she blocked it out, weaving through the few people that were still enjoying the festivities. Her eyes blurred with tears, to the point that she physically ran into Balthus, who was speaking to Yuri and Manuela. Manuela and Balthus’ eyes blew wide, as Yuri’s narrowed and sharpened. All she managed was a mumbled apology before running past them, trying to outrun Sylvain and Felix, who were still running after her and still calling her name.

Yuri appeared in a flash of light in front of her and grabbed her arms in an attempt to stop her. “What’s going on?”

“Leave me alone!” She pulled herself out of his grasp, and continued running, her lungs heaving, her eyesight blurry from the tears that were still falling. 

She hung a right just outside the gates, hugging the wall and running as fast as she could until she heard the telltale sounds of her pursuers. She ducked into the trees, weaving for only Sothis knows how long, until she found a sturdy enough tree. Felix called her name somewhere nearby, but she ignored it in favor of taking a running leap, catching the branch overhead—tearing at the palm of her left hand on the rough bark in the process—and pulling herself up, climbing the massive tree until she was far enough off the ground not to be spotted. 

She threw her trembling hands over her mouth in an effort to staunch the sob that threatened to give her away, her body still shaking and her breaths still coming in painful heaves. She stared down at her bloody hand and had to swallow down another round of bile climbing up her throat.

Sothis’ heart. She had Sothis’ heart in her chest. Seiros had put it there, taken it—stolen it—from her mother’s body—a body created by Seiros, herself. Created, just like she was. An _experiment_. That’s all she was. Just another failed attempt at reviving Sothis. Sothis, the goddess of Fodlan, had sacrificed herself for an _experiment_. A nobody. A person who had only come about because Jeralt had been at the wrong place at the wrong time.

Did Jeralt even know? Did he know that Sitri—that the woman he loved and adored, even twenty years after her death—was only a construct? What would he have thought? What would he have thought of her now? What would he think of her power? Of the fact that she couldn’t even use it to save him?

She wouldn’t be able to save anyone. Everyone she loved was going to age and die. Her students, her friends… Felix, Sylvain—

Another sob tore from her before she could properly silence it. She clamped her uninjured hand over her mouth and tried to even her breathing enough to listen to her surroundings, but her blood was rushing in her ears enough to where she couldn’t be sure if someone had heard her.

A flash of light appeared in front of her and she shouted, losing her balance in her surprise and started falling off the branch she had been sitting on. Before she could fall to the hard ground several feet below them, Yuri caught her wrist with a wry smile. He gritted out, “Hold on,” and then the world around her faded in a flash of light. 

They warped into a clearing—she wasn’t sure where, mostly because she hadn’t been paying attention when she’d been attempting to run away. Yuri pulled her to his chest and held tight when she tried to push away. “Let me go! Stop it!”

“No.” There was no malice, no anger, no hurt in his voice. 

“Please,” she whimpered, “please, let go…” She made one last feeble attempt to get out of his hold before weakly slamming her fist against his shoulder and dissolving into fitful sobs.

She was going to be alone. They were all going to die, leaving her behind, and she would be here. Alone.

Faith magic flowed into her hand, stitching up the gash she’d given herself trying to climb that tree. After only a few minutes, running footsteps sounded out behind her and she clenched her eyes shut, already having an idea of who it was.

“By…” Sylvain panted, stepping up behind her and putting a hand on her shoulder. 

Yuri asked, “You guys got her?” One of them must have nodded because Yuri lightly pushed her back, brushing away a chunk of hair that had become plastered to her face by her tears as he went. “I’m going to let people know you’re okay.” She nodded, a pathetic whimper pulling from her throat before another sob shook her and she fell to her knees. 

“Go…” Felix urged Yuri, his voice strained. She dropped her face to her hands and bent forward, too scared to look at either of them.

Felix and Sylvain were going to die. They were going to leave her behind. Even if she got them through this war—pulled at the threads of time until they snapped—her two best friends, the closest thing she had to a true family, would eventually turn old and grey. After what would hopefully be a long and happy life together, they would die. They would leave her. She would have to live for hundreds of years missing them. Grieving them.

_“She knew what it was to watch the ones you love grow old and die, only for the world to forget they ever existed in the first place with the inevitable passage of time.”_

She wouldn’t forget them. She could never forget them.

“By… By you have to breathe…” Sylvain smoothed her hair back and wiped the tears from her cheeks, before he eventually tried to pull her to his chest. She pushed him back and rolled out of the way of his arms, and began stumbling to her feet.

“I can’t… I can’t do this…” she shook her head fervently, wiping the tears from her eyes until she could see Sylvain where he was still kneeling on the ground, and Felix where he was standing a few feet away, looking like he’d been struck. 

“Can’t do what, By?”

Between ragged breaths she panted, “I can’t be… I can’t be a commander… I can’t be everyone’s salvation… I can’t be Sothis… I can’t… I can’t live without you guys… I can’t—”

Felix walked forward and reached out to hold both sides of her face. His eyes were narrowed, but his expression was calm. He firmly said, “You have to breathe.” 

She weakly grasped at his shirt as she gasped, “I can’t… I can’t breathe… Fe… I can’t breathe…” 

“You can,” he insisted, “Look at me.” She did as he instructed, and tried her best to follow his example as he took steadying breaths. Something solid pressed into her back, and she realized it was Sylvain. Her breathing started to even out as he wrapped his arms around her, and Felix pulled her into a hug. The weight of both of them was grounding, and she released a shuddering exhale as she finally managed to start calming down. 

After several minutes, Felix pulled back to cup her cheeks again, and she leaned into the touch. “You are the most powerful, most competent person, I’ve ever met. I’ve thought that since the night I met you. Even if you never met Sothis, even if you never had your power, I would be amazed by you. Always. You could never, _never_ , be nothing. I don’t want you to be Sothis, I want you to be Byleth. I want you to be the stubborn, tenacious, caring, and utterly foolish woman you’ve always been. Nothing more, nothing less. Do you understand?”

“You don’t understand, Fe… It’s so much worse… it’s so much worse than I thought.” She buried her head in Felix’s shoulder and tried to push away all of the images she’d seen that night. She wished she could forget all of the things she had learned. Cichol had meant it when he warned her that the information would impact her life, she just hadn’t realized how much.

Sylvain stroked her arms as he pleaded, “You don’t have to say anything right now, but let us take you back to your room, okay?”

“I can’t go back,” she rasped, “I don’t want to go back.”

Felix’s whole body tensed, and his hold on her became almost too tight. “What the hell did Seteth say to you?” 

“Everything about Sothis, everything about me, everything about the church, it’s all wrong. All of it. It’s too… it’s too much.”

She felt Sylvain move quickly, and Felix pulled her to the side as he placed a hand on the hilt of the sword at his hip, but it was Yuri that appeared, his expression one of open rage. “You need to come with me. Right now.” He held out his hand, but Felix held her tighter.

“She’s had enough for today, Yuri. Leave her alone.”

Yuri ignored Felix’s complaint. They met eyes, and the rage melted from his expression, leaving a sympathetic grimace. “There’s been an attack in Abyss. Constance just found me.” She pushed Felix away, already striding toward Yuri. “It’s… It’s Linhardt.”

If she had a beating heart, she was sure it would have stopped. “Take me.”

“Wait! Byleth!” Yuri didn’t wait. Everything around her disappeared as Yuri warped them. “Hold on.” It took them two warps to get to the entrance of Abyss, where she could immediately tell that something was very very wrong.

“Go to the Shadow Library. I’m getting Felix and Sylvain.”

She took off at a run, her breathing picking up as she made her way down the now familiar tunnels of Abyss. More of Yuri’s men were around, all of them waved her through with grim expressions. The Abysskeeper spotted and ran to meet her, frantically stammering, “I’m so sorry, Your Grace. I swear I never left my post. I don’t know how they got by me, they just—”

“Take me,” she ordered. Her voice was far steadier than she felt. The Abysskeeper led her around the corner and her whole world felt like it shattered.

Linhardt—her sleepy mage, her genius student, her beautiful friend—lay dead on the floor. Wide blue eyes stared at the ceiling unseeing, and his skin was already so pale. She dropped to her knees beside him with a shuddered breath and pressed a hand to his cheek.

His body was already cold.

“How long?” She only managed to speak just above a whisper.

“I found him only twenty minutes ago,” a semi-familiar voice stated. She turned her head to see Maggie leaning against the bookcase. She wore a frown, though the rest of her expression was covered by the veil she always wore. “I was coming to ask Yuri something… but he was already cold.” She shook her head softly and added, “I’m so sorry, Your Grace. I know he was special to you.”

“Leave us, please,” she gritted out, “No one comes in but Yuri and whomever he allows.” The Abysskeeper gave her words of confirmation and went to stand guard at the entrance as she huddled over Linhardt’s body and released a choked sob.

She pushed the feelings back and forced herself to look around, desperate for more information. Lines that told the tale of dark magic usage extended past his collar, and the fabric of his tunic was burned through at the chest, revealing an ugly splotch where his heart used to beat. When she pulled open what remained of Linhardt’s tunic, she found purple lines of dark magic branching from the spot, telling her that someone had hit him with the spell, and then his heart must have sent the dark magic through the rest of his body. 

Running footsteps sounded out in the hallway before Yuri, Felix, and Sylvain ran in. 

“Oh goddess…” Sylvain was the first to react, falling to his knees at Linhardt’s other side and taking Linhardt’s hand between his own as tears formed in his eyes. “No, no, no… Lin…”  
“You need to see this. Maggie found it on his body.” Yuri pulled a piece of parchment from his jacket and handed it to her. She took it with trembling hands and read:

_**You may summon your feeble forces, and you may search your tainted archives, but you will never succeed. You cannot stop what is destined to happen. Even your shield cannot keep you and the ones you hold dear from our reach. What was long ago cast into darkness, will soon be brought into the light. Soon, you will watch your world burn, Fell Star.** _

_**Then, the rule of the beasts will end with you.** _

A roar of fury ripped from her throat and took to the air as the parchment burned to ash in her palm. It was THEM. They did this. The ones responsible for Duscur, and for the death of her father. The ones who tried to banish her to Zaharas, making it so Sothis had to sacrifice herself. They killed Linhardt. They killed him to get to HER.

Her whole body felt hot, like she was burning from the inside out from rage. She turned to face Yuri and sharply asked, “When did you last see Linhardt alive?”

“After I left the Cardinal Room,” he answered, his voice thin and his eyes wide with _something_ as she stood, her breath heaving in her chest as her blood burned beneath her skin.

“Byleth, no!” Felix walked over and grabbed her arms. “Don’t! You can’t! That’s hours ago, and you’ve never done more than a few minutes!”

She grasped at Felix’s jacket as she vowed in a low voice, “He’s not going to die. I _swore_ to him that I wouldn’t let him die.” Sylvain was still kneeling by Linhardt’s body, silent tears streaming down his cheeks as he held the dead mage’s hand. Her sleepy mage. Linhardt wasn’t going to die… not like this. He was going to find the future he wanted. A peaceful one. One where he got to nap beneath a tree, soaking up the sunlight that filtered through the branches. She was going to make sure of it.

Yuri sharply interjected, “Does someone want to tell me what’s going on?”

She growled, “One of the Abyssians is spying for Thales and his lot. I’m going to find them, and I’m going to kill them. But first, I have to save Linhardt.”

Felix shook his head fervently, his face twisted with worry. “Byleth, no! It’s too—"

Time shattered before Felix could finish his objection. With one last shout of rage, she pulled at the threads of time, far harder than she had ever pulled before.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this chapter took me a long time. It was lore HEAVY and I had to write a lot of the second part before I could post this one. Anyway... yeah. There are still a lot of gaps that Cichol and Byleth need to discuss, and they will, I just couldn't keep going. That was the last straw for Byleth. She wanted to run away, but of course came back because... well... 
> 
> :( I'm really sorry y'all. Cliffhangers are the worst.
> 
> A lot of the Cichol tell-all is headcanon based off of the information provided in the Library at the Monastery and the Shadow Library. If I have a part that differs from canon... well it's my story, I guess? Haha I'm interested to hear what ya'll think about what lore I have so far. Just in case it doesn't come up later... My headcanon is that Cethleann still looks really young because the children of Nabateans and those with life extending blood age really slowly. Over the 70+ years between Sothis death and the battle on the Tailtean Plains she aged, and then stopped when she fell into her restorative sleep. 
> 
> Also I'm sorry this chapter was depressing. 
> 
> Take care of your mental health!


	25. The Lengths to Which I'd Go

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Chapter title very loosely based on The Lengths by The Black Keys (Love that song. One of my all time favorite bands, honestly.)
> 
> Byleth pushes her power harder than she ever has before. Felix and Sylvain are trying to adjust.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I just want to take a second to thank all of you for reading this. Some of you have been there since I started this back in May, and others have since binge-read this and recently caught up. Either way, I appreciate all of you. This fic has been so fun to write... stressful and hard at some points... but so rewarding! I appreciate your comments and kudos, but mostly it's so fun knowing people are enjoying this fun story I obsess over 24/7.
> 
> Okay... stop gabbing Taylor... You left them on a freaking cliffhanger.
> 
> Anyway. Love you guys!

~Byleth~

She had never gone back this far before. Normally it was only a few minutes, and she watched as everything moved in reverse, telling her what she did wrong the first time or at least giving her an idea of what she could do to save the person who had perished on her second attempt. This time she had no such luck. She still wasn’t sure what she needed to do in order to save Linhardt as she watched the awful last few hours of her life play backwards, but she knew she would do whatever it took to make sure he survived.

At first, time played out backwards like it always did. However, the further back she went, the less clear it all became. Instead of playing steadily, the images blurred together, giving her random flashes of moments. Felix as he cradled her face, Yuri grasping her wrist to keep her from falling from the tree, Felix and Sylvain’s looks of concern as she left the tomb, Cichol holding her hand, traveling down in the compartment, walking toward the Holy Tomb… 

It became harder and harder to turn it back, and soon it began to burn—like the magma from Ailell was running through her veins. She let go when she saw the washroom in her quarters, and with a choked gasp the river of time began to flow normally again. She sunk into the tepid bathwater as exhaustion seeped into her very bones, before pushing herself up and taking a deep inhale.

She was tired. So very tired. But she couldn’t worry about that right now.

She sluggishly pulled herself out of the bath and stumbled toward her wardrobe, pulling on random clothing and her breastplate. The Sword of the Creator— _Sothis’ spine_ —was propped up against the wall. She glanced to it for the briefest moment, before walking into the office and pulling a silver sword out of her weapons chest to strap it to her hip. She couldn’t bear to wield the Sword of the Creator… not yet.

She startled slightly when she found the knights outside her door, but then remembered that she had sent Sylvain and Felix away. She had almost forgotten about their conversation in the hallway, prior to her dismissing them in effort to give them some time to themselves. 

_They are going to die… They are going to leave me behind… I’m going to be alone…_

She physically shook the thoughts away as she quickly dismissed the knights and ran down the stairs. She had to get to Lin. She only hoped she wasn’t too late.

“Professor!” She startled out of her thoughts at the cry of her title, to find that she had nearly bowled Flayn over in her mad dash down the stairs. “Is everything alright? You do not look well.” The healer’s eyebrows furrowed in concern, and Byleth grabbed her forearms in a desperate grip as an idea formed in her mind.

“I need you,” she frantically whispered. “Lin is about to be attacked. I need you to come with me to save him.”

“What?!” Flayn’s eyes blew wide. “How could you possibly—”

She gently shook the young woman, cutting her off. “I need you to trust me. Please?”

“Of course,” Flayn quickly insisted, turning to run down the stairs in front of her. “Let us go.”

“He’s down in Abyss,” she quietly hissed as they hurriedly walked through the grounds. She wanted nothing more than to break into a run, but she knew that it would only draw more attention, and she couldn’t afford to be stopped right now. “He’s going to be attacked by a dark mage. I believe they are acting as a spy, and reporting to Thales and his group of masked mages.”

Flayn’s eyes became even wider as she asked, “Are you speaking of the group that Edelgard had allied with while we were at the Academy? The ones responsible for Remire, and trapping you in the forbidden spell of Zaharas?”

“Yes. It’s… I’ll explain more later, but Linhardt has been helping me look into them. They targeted him to send me a message. They are after me.”

“Oh my,” Flayn murmured, pressing a hand to her mouth.

“The trouble is, I don’t know exactly when he died, so I have to get down there and—”

“Professor!” Annette waved cheerily as she walked toward them.

“I’m so sorry, Annette, I can’t talk right now,” she hurriedly explained, still trying to walk toward the alleyway that led to the entrance of Abyss. She hated to be rude to Annette, but other things were of greater concern.

“Oh, that’s alright,” Annette chirped with an easy wave of her hand, “I was just wondering if you are coming to the feast? Everyone is heading there now.”

“The feast has already started?” she asked, her blood running cold.

“Well, yeah! Are you—”

“I have to go!” she shouted, taking off running with Flayn doing her best to keep up with her. Once they ducked into the tunnels of Abyss, she quickly asked Flayn, “Yuri said the last time he saw Lin alive was after we met in the Cardinal Room. How long ago was that?”

Flayn furrowed her brows in confusion, but hesitantly said, “About an hour or so ago?”

“Fuck,” she panted. “Have to go, have to go, have to—” she pushed her legs harder and harder as her lungs began to burn. She tentatively pulled at the Divine Pulse, wondering if she could go back further, but hissed as that same burning sensation flared. She could probably use it, but she worried whether it would be too much for her. She couldn’t afford another long sleep, but she would risk it if she had to.

_Don’t be dead. Don’t be dead. Don’t be dead!_

She sprinted around the last corner, into the center of Abyss. The Abysskeeper called out a cheery, “Hello, Your Grace!” 

There was a crash from the Shadow Library and she cursed under her breath as she rounded the corner, finding a familiar person with her hands still pointing at Lin as he lay writhing on the ground. The attacker heard her coming. She was too late. “Flayn! Rescue!” Lin’s body vanished in a flash of light, hopefully to reappear somewhere behind her as she charged Maggie with her sword drawn. “You won’t get away with this!” she screamed, rolling out of the way of a Miasma blast before lunging forward. At the last moment, Maggie conjured a shield as Hubert had during the invasion of the monastery. Her silver sword did nothing against the magical barrier, and she cursed herself for leaving the Sword of the Creator in her room.

“Fell Star! How inconvenient,” Maggie chortled, as dark magic began to form around her hands. “I suppose I’ll just have to kill you now, then! I’m sure Thales will be pleased when I bring him your head.”

“Maggie?!” The Abysskeeper cried out in shock, drawing Maggie’s attention. Dark sigils formed around him and Byleth sprinted forward, tackling him out of the circle just in time to dodge the powerful dark magic that sprang from the ground.

She jumped to her feet as she roared, “Let this be a lesson!” As she lifted her hand, a powerful Aura spell crashed down on the magical barrier surrounding Maggie, and the sound of it cracking echoed through the room. Maggie dismissed the shield before summoning another sigil that she didn’t recognize. She sprinted forward as quickly as she could, launching a Fire spell in effort to distract the dark mage from her sigil. Maggie hissed as it struck her shoulder, but managed to fire off the spell in her hand.

Dark spikes began to fall from the ceiling as Byleth did her best to dodge out of the way while continuing to charge Maggie. Pink light began to envelope the dark mage as Maggie attempted to flee, and in a last-ditch effort, Byleth pulled the dagger from her side and threw it, striking the veiled woman in her ribs. The warp spell died out, and the betrayer fell with a choked cry, clutching at the dagger with both hands.

She hovered over Maggie as she coughed wetly on the ground, and growled, “Yuri trusted you!”

“His… mistake…” Maggie gurgled, a smile still on her lips, even as Byleth cut her throat to finish her off.

She turned to the frozen Abysskeeper, who had managed to get back to his feet. She harshly ordered, “Go get Yuri!”

“Yes, ma’am!” He ran off after a quick salute, but she had already turned her attention to Flayn, who had her teeth gritted as she worked over Linhardt. Sweat had formed on the Saint’s brow, telling her that things weren’t going well.

“How is he?” she hurriedly asked, ditching her sword as she dropped to her knees on Linhardt’s other side. Flayn had pulled open his tunic, and she could faintly see the lines of dark magic slowly pushing through Linhardt’s veins. His forehead glistened with sweat, and his eyebrows were furrowed from the pain, though he didn’t seem aware of what was going on.

Flayn’s voice wavered with emotion and fatigue as she responded, “The spell struck his heart, and it’s pushing the dark magic through his body. I’ve slowed the process, but I fear I’m not strong enough to clear it completely.”

“We'll do it together. He’s not dying today.” She put her hands over Linhardt’s heart, which still beat faintly as she drew on her faith magic. She quietly pleaded, “Come on, Lin. I’ve got you. Stay with me, now.” She did as Rhea— _Seiros, her grandmother, the one who made her this way_ —taught her after Remire. She visualized the darkness she could feel in his veins and focused on drawing it out, little by little. The glow in her hands became so bright that she could see it, even with her eyes closed. She was growing tired, the excessive magic use was nearly too much after using her power to such an extent less than an hour ago, but she continued pushing. She wouldn’t lose him, not after everything. Years ago, she swore she wouldn’t let him die. She wasn’t going to break that promise now. With a cry of exertion, she gritted her teeth and focused on Linhardt’s heart, the beautiful organ that kept her sleepy, brilliant mage alive. 

Finally, the dark magic cleared.

When she opened her eyes, Lin was still breathing, his chest rising and falling evenly, and his brow had relaxed. She hoped he was no longer feeling any pain, or at least that it had ebbed with her efforts. She ran her fingertips over the scar that had formed over his heart, blemishing his porcelain skin. Flayn sighed in relief as she clasped her hands over her heart. “That was incredible, Professor.”

She shook her head. “Thank you for helping. I’m sure he would have been dead already if you hadn’t been here.” She was glad she brought the healer along to help.

“Who was that woman?” Flayn asked, her eyes flitting over to rest on the body a few feet away. She slowly got to her feet, wavering the slightest bit from the amount of magic she’d used in quick succession, and walked over to the body. She lifted the veil and grimaced as she found unnaturally pale skin and sickly orange hair, reminiscent of a prior enemy. Whether there was a connection between Maggie and Kronya, she would never know.

“A rat,” was her simple response. She rifled through the dark mage’s robes until she found the same note Yuri had handed her the first time. 

_**You many summon your feeble forces, and you may search your tainted archives, but you will never succeed. You cannot stop what is destined to happen. Even your shield cannot keep you and the ones you hold dear from our reach. What was long ago cast into darkness, will soon be brought into the light. Soon, you will watch your world burn, Fell Star.** _

_**Then, the rule of the beasts will end with you.** _

“Does someone want to tell me what is going on?” Yuri ran in and took in the situation before staring at her wide eyed. 

“Maggie was spying for Thales and the shadow group of mages. She tried to kill Lin to send me a message, but we stopped her.” She handed the note that she’d found on the dark mage’s person for Yuri to read through narrowed eyes.

“It’s true, Boss. I saw the whole thing!” the Abysskeeper chimed in, still panting from running around.

“Maggie?! _Maggie_?!” A lot of emotions flitted over Yuri’s features, ranging from fury to sadness. “She’s been hiding right under my nose this whole time?! The people they took… The _children_ they took… and she knew about all of it?!”

She stood and pulled Yuri into an embrace, but he stiffened and lightly pushed her away, before handing back the note. “You take sleepy mage to the infirmary. I’ll take care of things here.”

She tucked the parchment safely in her breast band, so she could hold onto it. “I’m really sorry, Yuri.”

“No, I’m sorry,” he snarled, the fury that had flickered before had now taken hold of his beautiful features. “Apparently I haven’t learned my fucking lesson.”

“Hey,” she grabbed both sides of his face and forced him to look at her. “Just because you trusted someone and they betrayed you, doesn’t mean you have to shut everyone out. You can still rely on people.” He couldn’t seem to meet her gaze for more than a moment, but she leaned up on her toes and pressed a kiss to his cheek. “I’m sorry she betrayed you. I’m here, if you want to talk.”

“Later,” Yuri sighed. He reached up to take her hand off the side of his face, and kissed her palm before letting it go. “Get sleepy mage taken care of, then get some rest. You look exhausted.”

“That’s because I am,” she sighed, before strapping her sword back onto her hip and stepping over to Linhardt. “Alright, Lin, let’s get you out of here.” She knelt down, picked him up in a bridal carry, and nodded for Flayn to follow her.

Luckily—or unluckily, depending on who you were—Seteth was the first to find them after they left Abyss, and the worry in his features turned to full blown panic as he looked them over. She couldn’t blame him. They were probably quite the sight. “What happened to the two of you?! I waited in my office and when neither of you came I—”

Flayn grabbed his hand as she said, “I am sorry we did not inform you of what was happening, Brother. The Professor urgently required my assistance, but I assure you that neither of us were harmed.”

She gritted out, “We’ll explain more once we get Lin to the infirmary. We were able to heal him as much as possible, but Manuela should look him over to make sure there won’t be any lasting effects from the dark magic.” She adjusted Linhardt in her arms, causing Seteth to quickly step forward to take him from her, but she shook her head. “I’ve got him.” The weight of Lin in her arms, paired with his warm breath on her neck was comforting, especially after everything she had to do to get him back.

Flayn was sent to search for Manuela while she and Seteth made the trek up to the infirmary, with Seteth trying to clear a path through the curious onlookers. The fatigue was setting in, to the point that carrying Linhardt was getting far too difficult. However, she was determined to get him there herself. She wasn’t sure why, but she had to do this. 

Once they finally arrived, she laid him out on one of the beds before throwing her sword to the ground, taking off her breastplate, and collapsing beside him. She curled her arms around one of his and scooted closer, unable to resist the urge to keep contact. Seteth wouldn't like it, but she was far from caring about his unnecessary desire for propriety. She needed to know that Lin was here. Lin was safe.

Her sleepy mage was alive. Linhardt was alive. He was going to be okay.

_Goddess, I’m so tired._

Seteth worriedly asked, “What happened down in Abyss, Byleth?” but she was far too tired to answer. It felt like it had been days since she had slept last, combined with the use of her power and the magic use, and she could barely keep her eyes open. 

She yawned silently and rested her forehead against Linhardt’s shoulder. “Explain… later…” She sighed heavily and closed her eyes, still clutching Linhardt’s arm as she finally drifted into unconsciousness.

~Felix~

“Duties?” he hissed, still fuming after Byleth had turned the corner and left them behind. “ _Duties_?! What the hell is going on with her?” Things had been off with Byleth, ever since the ambush and her tired confession in the healing wagon. She seemed to be avoiding them at every possible opportunity—isolating herself in the medical wagon with the unconscious boar, and sending them away just now without a second glance.

“She’s having a hard time, Fe.” Sylvain stepped up and put his hands on his shoulders. In the momentary privacy of the hallway, he placed his forehead on the coolness of Sylvain’s breastplate and released a heavy breath. “Maybe she just needs some space.”

“The only time she’s ever wanted space was…” he didn’t have to finish the sentence for Sylvain to know what he was talking about. His memories of the weeks after Jeralt died were still enough to make his anxiety about her flare. He was hardly one to criticize others for pushing people away, but he certainly didn’t like being the one being pushed this time.

“I know,” Sylvain soothed, though he failed to cover up the fact that he was worried, as well—Felix could hear it in his voice. “Maybe she’s just trying to figure out how to process everything. She has been through a lot in the last few weeks. We’re still here, and she knows it.”

“’You should go and enjoy an evening to yourselves. You are relieved of whatever duties you feel you have’. That’s about _us_.” Their relationship. They hadn’t really had time to adjust to everything since they had returned to Faerghus. Not he and Sylvain, and certainly not Byleth.

“That’s… something she has to process, as well,” Sylvain reluctantly noted. “It’s only been a few weeks, and we have been hovering lately. Maybe she just wants us to have some alone time.” It wasn’t that he didn’t want alone time with Sylvain, he did. But the fact that Byleth was acting weird was still rubbing him the wrong way. “Look… let’s go and get cleaned up, and then get some food. We’ll go up and check on her later.”

He stood up straight again, and moved to walk down the hallway, but Sylvain caught his wrist. He turned to face him, and was caught off guard when Sylvain leaned in to kiss him. He reciprocated, reaching up to grab the taller man’s shoulders as he walked him back against the wall and pressed him against it. After several moments of breathless kisses, Sylvain pulled back with a shit-eating grin that made heat rush to his cheeks. “Sorry. I didn’t know when I’d have the opportunity to see you make that face again. I couldn’t resist.”

He clicked his tongue with a smirk. “I don’t make a face.” Sylvain had that look in his eyes again, the one that was overwhelmingly fond, as he chuckled softly. He lightly shoved the redhead away and began walking, trying to get them back on track.

Sylvain had a point. Things were already complicated with their combined desire to watch over Byleth. The fact that his parents were now staying at the monastery only made things that much worse. They had talked to their closest friends—Ingrid, Dorothea, Bernadetta, Ashe, and Annette—and told them that they were together, but other than those closest to them—with a few rare exceptions, like Yuri—no one knew. He didn’t want to bother with what would happen if his parents found out about his actual relationship with Sylvain. 

That was best left until after the war. 

Probably.

They were quick in the bath house, both of them fairly exhausted from the amount of travelling they had done over the last week and a half. They parted at their rooms, and Felix walked into his own to get dressed. Considering the fact that they were only attending the feast, and he wouldn’t be guarding Byleth tonight, he decided to stick with his turtleneck and trousers, ditching the extra coats and light armor that he normally wore. He almost left his hair down, but threw it up into its usual ponytail at the last minute.

Sylvain was still getting ready when he walked into his room, vain creature that he was. Felix plopped down on his bed and watched as he walked around the room, putting the things he’d brought on their march away, and getting ready for their evening. Honey eyes kept glancing at him in the reflection of the mirror, but neither of them said anything.

Sylvain gave his hair one last tousle before turning to face him. “You know…” he purred lowly, “…we _could_ just stay here. Everyone will be so distracted by the party, they probably wouldn’t even notice if we weren’t there.”

He rolled his eyes. “You want to go and socialize, and you know it.” Though, perhaps not as badly as he wanted to get laid.

_That’s what I get for falling in love with Sylvain, I suppose._

“Maybe… But you don’t.” Sylvain sat down on the bed next to him and sunk down to rest his head on his shoulder. He let it lie there, but he continued staring at the wall in front of him.

“My father would be disappointed if I didn’t go, and I’m still trying to…” he paused as he considered his next words, “… fix things. Sort of.” His blow up in Ailell probably didn’t help things, but the old man had sprung all of this on him with no warning, so in his mind he deserved a pass. 

Sylvain turned his head so he could see his face. “Are you upset that your parents are here?” There was a hesitancy there, as there always has been when Sylvain asked him about how he feels about something. Even now, the knee jerk instinct to say something argumentative and then leave passed through his mind before he reined it back.

He decided to answer honestly, even though it took a lot more effort. “I think it’s absurd that father left Fraldarius in my uncle hands, though I suppose I understand why he did it. Morale will improve with him here, and he might be able to help Byleth rein in the boar, but it’s still…” he sighed and ran a hand through his hair. “I would prefer that they weren’t here, but they are, so I’m just going to have to deal with it.” It was going to be a source of constant stress, and he already had plenty of that between Sylvain and Byleth.

Sylvain hummed in acknowledgement before taking his hand and swiping the pad of his thumb over the sensitive skin at his wrist. He playfully pouted, “Does this mean you aren’t sleeping in here anymore?”

He lightly shoved Sylvain’s head off of his shoulder with a roll of his eyes. “I don’t know,” he quietly admitted. “I haven’t thought about it yet.” During their travels, it was natural for he and Sylvain to share a tent. They’d been doing so since the Academy days, so no one looked twice. Him sleeping in Sylvain’s room, however, would be a different story.

As if the goddess herself was giving him a reminder of why this was an issue, he heard a knock from the hallway, followed by his mother’s voice calling, “Felix? Are you coming to the feast?”

He sighed as he glanced over to Sylvain, who shot him a fond smile before getting to his feet. He stood and walked out Sylvain’s door, finding his mother at the boar’s next door. She was dressed down compared to what he normally saw her wear at home—wearing a simple gown with her chestnut hair in a simple plait down her back—though he supposed that was fitting for their current circumstances. “That’s the boar’s room, not that he uses it.”

She looked over in surprise before saying, “Oh dear, I must have remembered wrong. So, that is your room, then?” 

“Nope! It’s mine,” Sylvain chirped as he followed him out the door and shut it behind them.

“I was waiting for this oaf to finish preening so we could go and get food,” he groused, though he hoped that Sylvain wouldn’t take it personally.

He didn’t, of course. Instead, the redhead threw a casual arm over his shoulder and crooned, “What can I say? It takes time and effort to be this roguishly handsome.” 

His mother giggled affectionately before walking over to loop an arm through his own as they began walking toward the festivities. “Handsome, indeed. Is there someone we’re trying to impress?” He scoffed and shrugged Sylvain’s arm off, focusing instead on walking down the hallway and blocking out whatever nonsense was about to spill from Sylvain’s mouth.

In his old flirtatious drawl, Sylvain replied, “I’ve got to look good for all of my admirers, don’t I?” He was right. He should have tried harder to tune it out.

“There are so many beautiful women at the monastery,” his mother noted in a conversational tone. “Dorothea has only become more lovely over the years, as has Mercedes. Not to mention others that I’ve noticed since we’ve arrived.”

Sylvain woefully complained, “So many beauties, but so little time.” 

Thinking back, he wondered if Sylvain had been saying all of those ridiculous things for other people’s benefit, rather than his own, the entire time. He sounded the same as he always did, even though Felix knew it was fake. They hadn’t talked much about it, but he couldn’t help wondering, especially after finding out how Sylvain felt about Byleth, and Dorothea’s comment about the looks Sylvain was supposedly sending him back during their Academy days.

His mother sighed wistfully as they made their way past the greenhouse. “Being back here brings back so many memories from my own days at the Academy, and of course from the early days with your father. It’s so nice being here.”

He scoffed, “We’re here to wage war, Mother.”

His mother stroked his arm tenderly before letting go as they approached the dining hall. The place was packed with dressed down knights, former students, and rebellion fighters. There were even more people scattered around the fishing pond in what was probably an effort to escape the packed dining hall. His mother had to raise her voice in order to be heard as she said, “If you only think of war, you’ll never make it through. Looking for the good moments— _creating_ good moments—is what will truly get us through this terrible war.”

Sylvain’s eyes crinkled as he interjected, “She’s right, Fe.”

He griped, “Don’t look so smug. She said it, not you.” Sylvain laughed and draped an arm over his shoulders again. He shoved him off. Again. At least he’d always been like that at the Academy, no one was likely to think twice.

His mother looked between them fondly before asking, “Is Byleth coming? I haven’t had an opportunity to speak with her yet with how very busy she’s been.” 

“No,” his answer sounded sharper than he’d meant it to, but the subject was still a sore one. “She has a meeting with Seteth, her advisor.”

“That’s too bad,” she woefully sighed. She was scanning the area as she added, “However, I suppose it makes sense that she would be busy, being the acting archbishop and commander.” She spotted Bernadetta, hiding in the corner with Dorothea, who looked to be trying to coax her to mingle. “Oh, there’s Bern! I’m going to go and make sure she’s alright. Be good, you two.”

“No promises,” Sylvain cheekily called after her, making her laugh as she waved back at them. The redhead turned honey eyes on him as he asked, “Drinks? Food?”

“Both,” he grunted.

“Oh?” Sylvain’s eyebrow rose the slightest bit with a light chuckle. “Alright, then.” They manage to snag plates of food and drinks, before making their way over to sit with Annette and Ashe, who appeared to be deep in conversation.

“Hey! There you guys are!” Ashe greeted. “We were just wondering if you were coming.”

“Wouldn’t miss it,” Sylvain quipped with a wink. “It’s nice to see everyone getting along.” That had been the point of this entire thing, but even he had to admit that it was good to see. The better the morale, the more likely they were to work successfully together.

One of the tables had been pushed aside for drinking games, some of the people from the Opera had brought out instruments and were singing tavern songs, and his father was mingling with everyone with a drink in his hand. The place was rowdy, and not really his preferred setting, but he knew all of this was necessary.

He wished Byleth would relax long enough to come and enjoy it with them.

Annette smiled before sobering slightly as she asked, “Hey, do you guys know what has the Professor all worried?” 

“What do you mean?” he asked, his eyes narrowing.

“Well, I tried to ask her if she was coming to the feast and everything, because I feel like I haven’t talked to her in _forever_ , but she just shouted that she was busy and ran off. Honestly, I’ve hardly ever seen her look that worried.”

He brusquely asked, “When and where was this?” 

Annette looked even more concerned by their reactions. “Well… maybe like half an hour ago? Forty-five minutes, maybe? Over by the bath house. Why? Is something wrong?”

Ashe hesitantly murmured, “Hey guys…” The silver-haired archer was watching the door, where a group of people had just barged in, and were now frantically conversing in hushed tones. You could see as people passed whatever they were hearing along, and all of their features were full of a weird mixture of concern and awe.

“Hey, Felix! Sylvain!” Balthus appeared in the doorway and motioned for them to come. He stood, food long since forgotten, and rushed over with Sylvain just behind him. As he walked, he heard snippets of the whispers. “… carrying somebody…” “the archbishop herself…” “…been attacked…”

His heart started to race, and as soon as he reached Balthus he asked, “Byleth—”

“She’s fine, but I thought you’d want to come anyways,” Balthus assured before he could even manage to get the question out. “Flayn came to get Manuela. They are all up in the infirmary now.”

“Let’s go, then.” 

They ran through the grounds, dodging groups of people still partaking in the festivities. When they finally made it to the infirmary, they found Byleth passed out on the bed, clutching Linhardt’s arm in her sleep. Her face was pale, with dark rings below her eyes like she hadn’t slept, somehow looking far worse when he had seen her two hours ago. “This,” he hissed at Sylvain, “ _This_ is why I am never listening to her ever again. The next time she complains about me hovering, I’m telling her to shove it. I can’t leave this damnable woman alone for two hours without her finding trouble!”

“Keep your voices down,” Manuela harshly whispered, “They both need their rest.” The healer was working over a scar on Linhardt’s chest that looked suspiciously like the one he bore on his side. Dark magic, then? Thankfully, Byleth didn’t look injured, just exhausted. Still, anxiety and anger had melded together to create a vice that was currently squeezing in his chest. 

What happened? Why had she sent him away? Why didn’t she find him so he could help? Why wasn’t he there?! He should have been there! 

How was he supposed to protect her and fight for her, be her Sword and Shield, if she was always leaving him behind?

Seteth nodded toward the door and attempted to corral the three of them out to the hallway, with Flayn following close behind. He tried to fight it, feeling he would rather be at her bedside than on the outside of things, but Sylvain whispered, “Let’s find out what happened,” in effort to coax him along. He begrudgingly allowed Sylvain to drag him by the elbow.

They found Yuri approaching as they entered the hallway. Seteth asked, “How are things down in Abyss? Do you require any assistance?” 

Yuri chuckled dryly and put a hand to his forehead. “Are you going to send your shiny knights down to clean up shop?”

“I think you know that I will not,” Seteth answered evenly. “We both know that Byleth has asked me to funnel as many resources as we can manage to your people, so I hardly think she would be pleased if I ‘cleaned up shop’.” 

“Thank the goddess for her, then,” Yuri scoffed, looking off to the side. His facial features didn’t signal anything, but Felix could tell that it hurt him to say his next words. “Maggie was a figurehead down in Abyss. The fact that she’s dead isn’t going to go over well, let alone the fact that she was spying for the mages who abducted their friends and family.”

“It was all Maggie?!” Balthus shouted, sounding equally furious and shocked.

“What?” Sylvain breathed. His hand came to rest on his elbow, and he didn’t brush it away. The masked mages, the ones who were responsible for Duscur, and for almost taking Byleth away from them— _twice_ —had a spy right under their noses? Literally and figuratively? He wanted to be surprised, but he knew that the fake Tomas and the fake Monica's betrayal was practically the same thing. However, this instance was far more personal for Yuri, he could see it in the lavender-haired man’s features.

Seteth looked just as alarmed. His emerald eyes had blown wide as he asked in a wavering voice, “People were abducted from Abyss?” Flayn looked no better, with a trembling hand over her mouth. She of all people would know how it felt after the ordeal she went through with the Death Knight.

“You left us _defenseless_!” Yuri snarled. It seemed like the betrayal was making it hard for Yuri to keep his usual suave façade intact. “The Wolves and I couldn’t protect the entire underground on our own. There was nothing we could do! When the monastery fell—when you and all of your shiny knights fled—the masked mages came. They took men, women, and children. I tried to follow them, tried to save them, but I—” He cut himself off with an angry shake of his head. Balthus walked over to place a hand on his shoulder, but Yuri slipped away from the touch.

Seteth crossed an arm over his chest and bowed low, a sign of penance if he'd ever seen one from the taciturn advisor. “I am so sorry, Yuri. Had I known—”

Yuri only looked further enraged by the apology. “You never cared! Neither did _Her Holiness_.” Seteth looked down at the ground in shame as Yuri sneered the title. “Don’t come to me with your sad eyes when you left us down there to _rot_!” He realized now, why Byleth was so quick to trust Yuri in the beginning. If Yuri told her what happened, he knew she would do anything in her power to help. It also made sense that she enlisted him to help her look into these mages. He had as good a reason as any to want them dead. 

Yuri was just a leader, trying his best to look after his people with what little he had. He may not like the trickster, nor his relationship with Byleth, but the least he could do was respect him.

Yuri flipped his hair behind his shoulder as he released a deep exhale. His features smoothed out, but his eyes were still dangerous as he said, “I came to check on the sleepy mage and By, but I’m guessing they are asleep.” When Balthus nodded in confirmation, looking nearly as upset as Yuri was, Yuri turned away. “Then I have a mess to go and clean up. I’ll get my explanation later.” He vanished in the light from his warp spell.

“Is what he said true, Brother?” Flayn looked up at Seteth beseechingly, but he couldn’t seem to meet her gaze.

“It… it is true. We had no choice but to flee with the fall of the monastery, but I did nothing to help those in Abyss evacuate themselves. Lady Rhea… she—”

“Let me guess,” he snapped, and Seteth’s eyes flitted up to his, “she deemed it wasn’t worth the effort?” Balthus huffed and leaned against the wall with his arms crossed menacingly.

“Lady Rhea was certain the monastery would not fall,” Seteth stated, though his tone sounded weary, almost defeated. “It had never fallen, not in the millennia since its construction. She had faith that—"

He cut Seteth off, not willing to listen to any of his bullshit about faith when he knew exactly who the former archbishop was. “I don’t care what Rhea thought. If it weren’t for Byleth, most of us would have died that day. Those weeks leading up to the fall of the monastery, it wasn’t Lady Rhea going around to check on everyone, it was Byleth. Lady Rhea wasn’t running everyone through drills, trying to prepare them for the worst, it was Byleth. Lady Rhea wasn’t planning evacuation routes in case of the fall of the monastery, Byleth was!”

Seteth crossed his hands behind his back and glanced to the infirmary door as he hummed quietly in acknowledgement. A non-answer. Which was very annoying. He at least had the decency to look slight ashamed.

Sylvain grasped his elbow fully as he informed the others, “We’re going to wait for Byleth to wake up.”

“Manuela informed me she will likely sleep until morning,” Seteth sighed. “She used a lot of magic in effort to save Linhardt.” 

He was willing to bet Seteth didn’t know the half of it.

“Well, we’ll be here when she does,” he gruffly stated, turning on his heel and walking back into the infirmary. As far as he was concerned, Seteth was Rhea’s advisor. It didn’t take much to see he knew more than he was letting on, and that meant he couldn’t be trusted. Certainly not where Byleth was concerned.

Sylvain joined him after a few moments, pulling up a chair to sit beside him. The redhead whispered, “Balthus is going to stand guard outside the door, just in case.” He grunted in acknowledgement, but didn’t take his eyes off of Byleth. Sylvain threw an arm over his shoulders and soothed, “She’s fine, Fe.”

“Does she _look_ fine?!” Manuela made a harsh hushing sound and he cast a sharp look over his shoulder at the former songstress. She met his glare with her own, and made a motion toward the door, threatening to kick him out. He whispered his apologies, and Manuela clicked her tongue chidingly as she stood and strolled out the door herself—probably to flirt with Balthus.

“I understand that you are upset,” Sylvain assured. He took his hand and continued, “I’m just worried that with how angry you are, you are going to yell at her when she wakes up. And we both know how that usually goes. I just… I want to help.” He bowed his head as his jaw clenched, remembering all of the times that he had yelled at her when she had been in danger. He was always too busy being angry to notice when she was hurting… was something like that happening now?

When he didn’t say anything in response, Sylvain sighed, “We’ll get answers when she wakes up.”

He must have dozed off while he was watching her, because when he opened his eyes again, it was completely dark in the infirmary. There was rustling and sniffling coming from the bed, and Sylvain stood up to light a candle, removing his head from where it was perched.

Once the candle was lit, they saw Byleth and Linhardt embracing on the bed. Linhardt was silently crying—the only indication that it was happening was the shaking of his shoulders as he hid his face in the crook of Byleth’s neck. “I’ve got you,” Byleth whispered, with tears forming in her own eyes. “It’s alright. You’re safe.”

Sylvain stepped behind him and wrapped his arms around his waist, before bending down to bury his head in his neck. He placed his hands on the redhead’s arms in a show of comfort. He tried to fight off the barest flicker of jealousy as he felt Sylvain tremble against his back. He knew that Sylvain and Linhardt had been involved for a long time, but he also knew it shouldn’t bother him. Sylvain told him a long time ago that there hadn’t been romantic feelings involved, it just… still bothered him. A little. 

He wasn’t fond of thinking of all of the people Sylvain had been with before, back when he was looking for distractions and solace in all of the wrong places.

It didn’t take long for Linhardt to fall asleep again. His head was resting on Byleth’s chest as he curled against her side. All the while she idly stroked his hair, staring up at the ceiling with empty eyes. Sylvain released him and walked over to the bed, gentling sitting down beside Byleth so he could reach out and stroke her arm. “How are you feeling, By?”

“Better now,” was her quiet answer, though she was still staring at the ceiling with that blank stare.

“Do you want to tell us what happened?” Sylvain quietly prompted, but she gently shook her head.

She whispered back, “Maybe in the morning.”

He would never tell anyone this… _ever_ … But the list of things he feared was growing almost daily. Unsurprisingly, most of the recent items on that list were centered around Byleth. Standing there, staring down at her as she held Linhardt as tight as she could, the exhaustion still plainly written over her face, another item was added to the list.

In the end, what lengths would Byleth go to, if it meant keeping them alive?

He really hoped he’d never have to find out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Linhardt is okay, but traumatized. Poor baby was scared he was going to die alone in Abyss. :(
> 
> Also... me crying because I've made Yuri's trust issues even worse. :( Why do I do this to my babies? *sigh*


	26. Words Don’t Come That Easy (It's Easier To Run Away, Than To Know What To Say)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Chapter title pulled from Say by Ruel
> 
> Byleth struggles with lingering feelings from the prior day as Sylvain and Felix struggle to find out what exactly is bothering her. Decisions are finally made with how to proceed with the war.

~Sylvain~

The morning came too soon, but not soon enough. He woke up with the dawn, having slept very little in the first place, and gently shifted away from Felix before moving to sit on the edge of the bed. He immediately noticed that Byleth was already awake, though she still looked as weary as she had the night before. He wondered whether she had gotten any quality sleep at all, what with the fact that her face was ashen and there were dark circles beneath her eyes. She was staring up at the ceiling with a hollowness that made his chest ache. He stood and stretched his arms above his head, and the brilliant green eyes that he so adored flitted over to track his movements. He sent her a soft smile as he walked over to sit beside her, being careful not to shift the mattress too much in effort not to disturb Linhardt, who was still fast asleep curled up against her.

He whispered, “How are you feeling?” as he brushed some hair from her face, and her eyes fluttered shut when his fingers brushed her skin.

“Fine,” she murmured. She shifted her face away from his touch to run a hand through Linhardt’s hair. The sleepy mage’s tunic was destroyed, showing the scar marring his ivory flesh from the veiled woman’s attack the night before. He was sure Manuela hadn’t bothered to try and change him, not with how wrapped up he and Byleth were as they slept.

He leaned down to whisper in her ear, “You did it, By. He’s okay.”

“It’s my fault they went after him in the first place.” She glared up at the ceiling like it had been the one that harmed Linhardt. “I asked him to look into them in an attempt to keep him off the battlefield, but it still wasn’t enough.” She shut her eyes tight, like she could block out whatever image she was seeing. 

Linhardt mumbled something unintelligible and Byleth pulled him closer. He blinked his big blue eyes open and shifted to look up at her. He dryly joked, “I suppose it only took almost dying to have a nap with you.” He nuzzled into her shoulder and she chuckled brokenly before rolling onto her side, probably in an effort to try and hold him even closer.

“Lin, Lin, Lin, Lin, Lin…” She repeated his name over and over as she held him.

“Thank you,” was Linhardt’s soft reply.

“Don’t thank me,” Byleth sniffled, “It’s my fault she went after you. I never should have asked you to look into them. I never should have left you vulnerable like that.”

“I know what you were trying to do,” he murmured. “It was a brilliant idea, if it weren’t for the danger that is inherently posed by looking into a dangerous organization that is threatening the balance in Fodlan, of course.”

“What balance?” Felix sleepily grumbled from the other bed, probably having been woken by the conversation, “We’re in the middle of a war.”

“Fair point,” Linhardt groggily conceded. He sighed in that Linhardt way of his, and Sylvain couldn’t help feeling a bit relieved at the sound of it. Watching the normally apathetic mage sob into Byleth’s shoulder last night had been a haunting experience, though he was sure it was no more haunting than remembering Linhardt’s death like Byleth obviously did. “Now… are you going to tell me how you managed to show up right when I needed you? I thought for sure I…” he didn’t finish the sentence, instead he shifted awkwardly on the bed. _“Thought for sure I was dead,”_ went unsaid, but still understood.

“I missed you. I was coming down to check in with you, and just happened to be there in time,” was Byleth’s lame excuse. Linhardt’s eyes narrowed with suspicion as she shifted to throw her legs over the side of the bed. She stood and ran her hand through her messy hair as she turned to look down at the sleepy mage. “How are you feeling now? Any pain? Should I get Manuela or Flayn?”

“Tired,” Linhardt yawned. He had a pout that was oddly familiar as he drawled, “I’m assuming our napping has to end now.”

Byleth crawled back onto the bed with a frown. “I need to go and prepare for the war council meeting. Why don’t you come with me? You can nap in my bed while I get ready?”

Felix scrambled out of the bed and sternly said, “Byleth…”

“Yes?” She turned to look at him, though her expression was guarded. Felix bristled immediately at the sight of it.

He crossed his arms and looked down at her. “We need to talk to you.”

“Talk,” Linhardt hummed. “That sounds stimulating.” Felix shot a glare the sleepy mage’s way.

“He means we were hoping to talk more about what happened,” Sylvain interjected, hoping that Felix would get his point. “Yuri let us know that Maggie was the attacker, but that’s all the information he had.”

“I have to get ready for the war council meeting,” Byleth explained with an apologetic look his way. She looked to Felix as she added, “Your father needs to be brought up to speed, and we have to finalize our next steps in the war. I have to tell everyone about my plan with Claude, and—”

“Claude?” Lin’s head perked up as his eyes became more focused. 

“Yes. I’m planning to reach out to form a tentative alliance with him. Our next step in the approach to Enbarr will be to march on the Great Bridge of Myrddin. If we have Claude draw out Gloucester’s troops—”

“You go through undetected and thus have a better chance of allying with Gloucester later on,” Linhardt finished in a thoughtful tone. “I’m assuming you have been in contact with Claude this whole time?”

“Well… yes…” Byleth looked off to the side guiltily as she explained, “I plan to tell everyone in the war council meeting. It was too dangerous to let everyone know in the beginning.”

Linhardt sat up in the bed and yawned as he stretched his arms overhead, quickly dropping them as he winced in pain. “There’s no need to look so guilty, I’m not accusing you of anything. Caspar’s arrival, the gold on your clothes, your total trust in the fact that Claude would antagonize troops from his own country… it’s not hard to figure out.” Felix angrily grumbled something as he turned away, though Sylvain wasn’t sure what it was.

“Come on,” Byleth coaxed with an outstretched hand. “You can rest some more in my room.”

“I don’t need a babysitter,” Linhardt wearily sighed, though his gaze was affectionate as he took her hand.

Byleth pulled him to standing before promptly burying her face in his chest and embracing him. Her voice was muffled as she said, “I’m not babysitting you, I just… I want you with me. Okay?” 

In one of those surprisingly affectionate Linhardt moments, he cupped the back of her head and leaned his own against it. Felix looked on with narrowed eyes, but when he noticed Sylvain staring he turned away again. He idly wondered whether Felix would always be this possessive when it came to Byleth, even when he wouldn’t acknowledge any feelings for her beside platonic. 

Linhardt yawned, “I’ll stay if I must, though I’d like to go and check on the Shadow Library, eventually. I hope whatever you did to Maggie didn’t destroy the things I had set aside for you.”

“I make no promises. The place was fairly trashed from the magic usage.” Byleth pulled away from their embrace and then turned to glance at him. “I’ll see you two at war council?”

“We’re coming with you,” Felix interjected in an angry tone. 

She started saying, “I’ll be—”

“NO!” Felix’s shout rang through infirmary and they all stared as his chest heaved with heavy breaths. “Stop saying you’ll be fine. Stop sending us away! Just STOP!” His heart twisted in his chest at the vulnerable look in Felix’s eyes. He knew last night affected him, but he had failed to realize how much. 

“Felix…” Byleth walked over with a hand outstretched as if to touch him but he turned away with a defensive crossing of his arms. The door sprang open and they all turned as a sky-blue blur rushed past them and crashed into Linhardt. 

“Lin!” Caspar was tearful as he forcefully embraced his friend, until Linhardt let out a pained grunt and he eased his hold. “You’re okay! I’ve been so worried, but Balthus said you were sleeping and I should stay out, but then I heard Felix yell and so—"

“I’m fine, Caspar,” Linhardt droned with an affectionate roll of his eyes. “The Professor somehow managed to keep me alive, with only an ugly scar left behind.” Which of course prompted Caspar to put Linhardt down and turn on Byleth, who yelped in surprise as Caspar excitedly twirled her around.

“Thanks for saving Lin, Professor.” 

Byleth’s eyes were glistening with unshed tears as she answered, “Of course. I’d do anything to keep you all safe. I hope you know that.”

“Sure, we do!” Caspar chirped with a goofy grin. “Doesn’t mean we can’t thank you when you do it!” Byleth nodded as she pursed her lips in what looked like an attempt at a smile. If only Caspar knew how many times she had saved them… not even he and Felix knew that. At this point, Byleth probably didn’t even know an exact number.

Linhardt put a hand on his friend’s shoulder before saying, “Caspar, would you mind grabbing me a change of clothes? I’m going to rest in the Professor’s room until war council, but I’d like to cover up, and you know how I hate walking.” Caspar’s eyes tracked down to the hole in Linhardt’s shirt and then widened as they took in the splotch of purple that covered the skin over the mage’s heart, left behind when he’d been struck with dark magic. It was hauntingly similar to the one Felix had on his side, from the night of Remire. 

Caspar pulled him into one last enthusiastic hug before tearfully saying, “Sure, bud. I’ll bring ‘em to the Professor’s room. I’ll even grab you guys some food while I’m at it.” He turned and ran out the door as Linhardt called a lazy “ _thank you_ ” after him.

“Well? Shall we go?” Linhardt held out a hand to Byleth, who immediately took it. 

She turned to Felix as she said, “You can come as well, if you’d like. I promise I only plan on bathing and preparing for the war council meeting in my quarters. No daring exploits on the books today.” Felix glared, not amused by the joke. Byleth deflated as that hollow look seeped back into her gaze. “We’ll talk soon, okay?” 

“I can stay here if you all want to sort out…” Linhardt vaguely motioned between the three of them with a look of curiosity, “… whatever is happening here.”

Felix snapped, “Whatever. Are we walking to her room, or what?” glaring at Linhardt now.

“I would rather not, but it seems a change of scenery is in order,” Linhardt yawned. He leaned heavily on Byleth as he pouted, “Carry me, Byleth?”

He couldn’t help feeling relieved when an amused gleam took over the hollowness that had crept into her expression. The corner of her mouth twitched up as she nodded and swept Linhardt into her arms. Felix scoffed derisively at the look of pure smugness on the mage’s visage, and he released a quiet chuckle as he went to place a hand on Felix’s lower back.

He leaned in close as he whispered, “Are you going to be okay?”

“She’s brushing us off again,” he gritted out. “How in the Eternal Flames am I supposed to be okay?”

“It might just be because Lin’s around,” he supplied, feeling hopeful that that was indeed the reason, and that they would hear a full explanation of what had actually happened soon. That was the duel-edged sword of knowing about Byleth’s power—it makes you aware of just how much you _don’t_ know, a fact that was obviously driving Felix mad. Felix clicked his tongue and strode after Byleth and Linhardt with his hands clenched at his sides.

It was going to be a day.

  
“As I’m sure you are all aware, there was an attack in Abyss last night during the festivities.” He sat beside Felix in the Cardinal Room, and glanced around at all of the familiar faces of his friends and comrades, all enraptured as Byleth stood at the head of the room with her arms crossed behind her back. Linhardt sat in the back corner, looking like he’d rather be anywhere else, with Seteth and Flayn sitting beside him. “Linhardt was harmed, though we were extremely lucky that Flayn and I were there to save him.”

“Who was it? Do we know?” Shamir stood off to the side with her arms crossed, something evaluating in her gaze. Though, he always thought her eyes were evaluating.

“We do,” Byleth nodded. She paused for the barest moment before looking over everyone in the room. “I would like to apologize. In an effort to protect you all, I have kept some things to myself that I never should have hidden. I’ve put you all in danger because of my own foolish actions, and I am deeply sorry. My students are no longer children, and the rest of you are trusted brothers and sisters-in-arms that I should have entrusted with this information long ago.”

“Out with it,” Dimitri impatiently snapped from his seat near the door.

“There was a spy hidden among us, one that I believe was funneling information to the group responsible for the Tragedy of Duscur and many of the other events that have spurned chaos throughout Fodlan. This group has also allied themselves with the emperor, and they are likely assisting her in her efforts to conquer the continent. I have had a few people quietly investigating them, and it seems they found out. They are extremely dangerous. They abducted men, women, and children from Abyss, and are responsible for many of the events that transpired during the year I taught at the Academy.” 

After a moment of heavy silence, Ingrid asked in a wavering voice, “Duscur?” 

Rodrigue’s eyes were narrowed as he asked, “What group do you speak of, Lady Byleth?” 

Byleth’s eyes rested on Dimitri as she explained, “Dimitri and I overheard a conversation shortly before Edelgard declared war on the Church of Seiros—back when she was still acting under the guise of the Flame Emperor. During said conversation, a dark mage—the man that is responsible for the death of my father, and for my fall from the cliff during the invasion of the monastery—admitted to having a hand in the deaths of those who perished during the Tragedy of Duscur.” Dimitri shot to his feet with a snarl as Ingrid’s face blanched. Rodrigue, interestingly enough, didn’t look all that surprised. If anything, he looked thoughtful. 

Ingrid hesitantly asked, “How can you be certain that they are responsible for the Tragedy? The blame lies with—"

“Ingrid,” Byleth’s voice was sharp, immediately cutting off whatever Ingrid was about to say, “Duscur was not responsible for the death of the King, nor of any of the knights who died that day. Masked mages, similar to those we have been facing, were.”

“You dare speak of it as if you know, _Professor_?!” Dimitri snarled her title, with his face pinched up in a look of disgust and discomfort.

“You and I both know what we saw that day, Your Highness,” Gilbert solemnly added from his seat. His head was bowed, concealing his features. 

Murmurs filled the room as people whispered amongst themselves. He surveyed the room, interested in people’s reactions to Byleth’s news. Ingrid still looked shaken, Catherine was glaring down at the table, Shamir’s eyes were narrowed as she watched Byleth, Seteth looked as if he’d been struck, and Annette was staring desperately between her father and Dimitri. So much was still unknown about the events that transpired five years ago, lost in the chaos that came with Byleth’s “blessing” and Edelgard’s declaration of war. He wasn’t surprised that others were shocked and disgruntled that Byleth was coming forward with this now, after an attack had already taken place.

He had a suspicion Rhea would have just swept it all under the rug. It showed that Byleth was trying to be a good leader, even if she had zero training for the role that had been thrust upon her.

Byleth’s voice silenced all the murmuring as she continued, “I tell you all this because we need to be vigilant moving forward. Our primary objective is ending the war, which lies with the emperor’s defeat.”

“That witch’s _death_ ,” Dimitri hissed, still glaring at Byleth. "All of these monsters must pay for what they have done with their own blood! To the Eternal Flames with all of them!"

Byleth took a deep breath before continuing, "I want all of you to be careful. We know from past experience that this enemy has the ability to look like anyone. They posed as Tomas the librarian, and a student named Monica five years ago, and we would be hard pressed to know who else they have planted within our ranks. As we work toward capturing Enbarr, discretion is necessary if we are to keep our plans from the emperor’s ears. As we advance, I expect we will draw out our secret enemy, but we must be prepared for anything, moving forward.”

Annette tentatively raised her hand and asked, “What exactly is our plan?” 

Byleth nodded, probably thankful for the change in topic. “I’m glad you asked, Annette.” She turned to a map of Fodlan on the wall and circled her finger around Garreg Mach. “As you all know, it would be nearly impossible to cross into Empire territory through the Oghma mountains. Seeing as the west is under Dukedom control, I am proposing that we head east,” she trailed her finger across the map as she spoke, “through Gloucester territory, and take the Bridge of Myrddin. The Alliance is currently split in two, with House Gloucester leading the Imperial faction, and House Riegan leading those that are opposed to Edelgard’s conquest. I suspect that Count Gloucester feels a great deal of pressure from the emperor, due to Imperial possession of the Great Bridge of Myrddin. When we take it, I plan to discuss an alliance with House Gloucester, and through them, the Alliance itself.”

Murmurs filled the room as Byleth looked everyone over. Catherine was the one to eventually ask, “What if the Empire and the Alliance both attack?”

“I’m glad you brought it up, thank you, Catherine.” Byleth nodded to the Holy Knight, who dipped her head in return. “Unfortunately, an attack from both sides is always a possibility, but I have a plan that would increase our chances of reaching the bridge undetected, and avoiding fighting Alliance troops completely. I have been in contact with Claude von Riegan and—”

“Of course, you have,” Dimitri snarled, glaring off to the side. Dimitri had always been jealous of how much time Byleth spent with Claude during their Academy days… Was he still jealous? Did Dimitri still have feelings for Byleth? Even with all of the shit he had put her through since she’d come back? 

Judging by the look of disdain Felix was sending the prince’s way, he probably thought something similar.

“—I believe he is willing to ally with us. The thing that keeps him from doing just that is those at the Roundtable that are of the Imperial faction. I propose that we send Leonie with some of my father’s old mercenary troop with a message for Duke Riegan. They have worked with him in the past, and as such will likely go undetected. If Riegan forces were to draw out Gloucester’s troops,” she pointed to a point between Riegan and Gloucester territories on the map, “we could march near the mountains until we reach the bridge, avoiding unnecessary bloodshed.”

Mercedes furrowed her brow and asked, “Would Claude be willing to do that? These are the people he’s trying to protect, aren’t they?”

Yuri chimed in, “House Gloucester is currently drawing support from the Empire. Duke Riegan has been forcing neutrality, but he knows that the war is at his doorstep. If we cut off Count Gloucester’s ties to the Empire, we force him to comply. If we force him to comply, the Alliance will stand united against the Empire’s conquest. From what I’ve heard, Duke Riegan is too smart not to go with Byleth’s plan.”

Shamir raised an eyebrow as she asked Byleth, “And you trust him?” 

Byleth nodded and met the sniper’s gaze as she confirmed, “I do.”

Rodrigue stroked his chin as he noted, “And once we manage to capture the Great Bridge and gain a foothold in the Empire…”

Dimitri finished, “Then we cross Gronder Field and head south toward Enbarr.”

Mercedes clasped her hands in front of her chest. “Speaking of House Gloucester, I wonder how Lorenz is holding up…”

Annette shook her head as a frown pulled at her lips. “If we meet again, it will probably be as enemies. To be honest, I’d rather avoid seeing him altogether.”

Dimitri huffed an impatient breath before crossing his arms firmly over his chest. “If you do not wish to kill familiar faces, do not tarry over the corpses of the dead.”

Felix rolled his eyes with a belligerent scoff. “Good advice.”

Catherine pounded her fist against the table as she called out, “If it gets us to Lady Rhea, I’m in.”

Lord Rodrigue glanced to the back of the room where Dimitri sat as he asked, “Does this plan please you, Your Highness?” He found it interesting that Rodrigue even bothered to ask. It was true that Dimitri barely had any leadership power, but if it weren’t for him, they wouldn’t be marching toward Enbarr in the first place. Byleth was doing all of the work, bearing the burden of leadership on her own, while the prince was used as a figurehead to rally the troops.

Byleth despised it, that was the reason she was working so hard in the first place. She didn’t want Dimitri to feel the burden of leadership any more than he already had to due to his name and title. Sylvain felt it was disgusting, but he also knew that it would only be worse if Dimitri were the one that was truly leading them. The Kingdom knights would follow him without thought, and they would die for him without receiving so much as a second glance from the man they died for.

He missed the old Dimitri.

“It is foolish to trust one such as Claude,” the blonde prince groused, still glaring off to the side. “But if he crosses us, I will simply cut him down, just like any other.”

Byleth’s voice cracked like a whip as she said, “You will do no such thing.” It was the first show of true emotion they had seen from her since the start of the meeting. Dimitri huffed indignantly and stormed out of the room. The air held that same awkward tension it always did when Byleth and Dimitri butted heads until she clapped her hands and said, “You are all dismissed for training. Leonie, Lord Rodrigue, and Yuri if you would stay to discuss our message, it would be much appreciated.”

Without another word, most of the people stood to head out of the room, but Linhardt, Yuri, Felix, and himself stayed. Leonie strolled up to the top table, pumping her fist in excitement. “This is it! We’re finally going to reach out to the Deer!” He wondered whether she had worried about having to fight her old friends.

Who was he kidding? They are all worried about fighting old friends. 

“We are,” Byleth hummed, the corner of her lip tilting up ever so slightly.

Leonie tipped her head in confusion before asking, “Why didn’t you just tell me you were in contact with Claude, Professor? I mean… he is my old house leader and all.” 

Byleth frowned sympathetically. “Claude felt it was too dangerous for people to know. Hilda was playing secret messenger for us, because he didn’t want the other lords at the Roundtable to know he had contact with an unallied faction in the war. He’s had a tenuous balance over there, but with our bolstered forces and our triumph over House Rowe’s forces, we’ve proved ourselves a valuable ally. If we take the bridge, he’ll have a better chance of cementing an alliance with us.”

Rodrigue stroked his chin as he mused, “From what I hear, Duke von Riegan is an excellent strategist. I have no doubt that it has taken great effort to keep neutrality for the last five years—though I do wish he would have come to the Kingdom’s aide sooner, I realize he was trying his best for the sake of his people.”

Leonie smiled. “He’ll be psyched if we can officially become allies! He was hiring people to search for you the entire time you were gone. Honestly, I’m surprised he hasn’t come here himself yet, rumors be damned!”

“I hope I get to see him soon,” Byleth sighed, a melancholy settling over her for the briefest moment until she shook it away. “Alright, let’s get to work.”

It took Byleth and Yuri about an hour to prepare the message detailing the plan for Claude. He and Felix sat toward the back of the room watching them as Linhardt took a nap beside them. When they were done, Leonie took the sealed message and ran off to prepare the group of mercenaries that would be going with her to Derdrui.

Yuri waved a hand in farewell as he called over his shoulder, “I’ve got some stuff I need to take care of down in Abyss.”

“How is everything going?” Byleth called out, her eyebrows furrowed in concern. “Do you need help with any repairs or anything?”

“No.” The word was spoken tersely and Byleth flinched minutely. Yuri sighed and added, “It’s just… things are tense down there right now. Maggie was a figurehead in the community and…” And Byleth had killed her—spy or not. That was going to create some problems for the people down in Abyss.

“I understand,” Byleth nodded. “Come and see me later?” 

He wished his heart wouldn’t feel like it was breaking every time he wondered whether they were getting together.

Yuri frowned slightly as he quietly replied, “If I have the time.” The purple-haired trickster rushed out the door, and when it shut behind him, Byleth’s features became downcast. She ran a hand through her hair with a weary sigh.

Rodrigue clasped a hand on her shoulder as he kindly said, “You look as though you could use some rest, Byleth.”

“I didn’t sleep well after the excitement last night,” she explained, gathering a few things from the table in front of her before sending a small smile Rodrigue’s way. “I’m sorry I missed out on the festivities.”

“Nonsense. It was fortunate you were there to save young Linhardt,” the mage in question raised his head with a groggy yawn and nodded.

Byleth did that thing where she pursed her lips in what looked like a failed attempt to smile and nodded her head. “It really was. Still, I appreciate the fact that you put it together.” 

They all made their way toward the door, but stopped when they found Seteth and Flayn standing in the hallway. “Lady Byleth,” Seteth bowed as Byleth released a quiet sigh, “There is something I wish to discuss with you, if you have a moment.”

“Sure, Seteth. Let’s go to my quarters.” She looked toward he and Felix and asked, “Will you look out for Linhardt for me?”

“I still do not require a babysitter,” Linhardt yawned. 

“Then you won’t be babysat,” was Felix’s cool response. He looked to Byleth as he folded his arms and stated, “Besides, I’m coming with you.”

“This is more of a… private matter,” Seteth insisted, glancing toward Byleth as if he was requesting backup.

“Actually,” Rodrigue chimed in, “I have something I’d like to give you in my quarters, Felix. Your mother also requested that I bring you by after the meeting. You are more than welcome to come if you’d like, Sylvain?”

He chuckled lightly as Felix’s face twisted up in a cute display of his obvious consternation. He threw an arm over Linhardt’s shoulders as he replied, “I think I’ll go and get some lunch with Lin. I appreciate the invitation, though.” Felix’s eyes blew wide and almost pleading for the barest moment before he bowed his head in resignation. He felt bad abandoning Felix to his parents, but a awkward Fraldarius family get together was not something that he could handle right now. He also knew that Byleth would feel better if someone was with Linhardt, so he felt far more inclined to do what she had asked.

Byleth offered, “How about we get some training in this evening, Felix?” Which instantly got the swordsman’s attention.

“Fine,” he huffed, doing that Felix version of a pout that was really more of a brooding sideways glance. 

“See you soon then,” she waved her hand in farewell and walked down the hall, closely followed by Seteth and Flayn. Rodrigue and Felix took off soon after, with Felix glancing over his shoulder at him one last time before turning the corner.

“Exhausting,” Linhardt sighed. “I’m not sure how you handle all of that.”

“All of what?” he chuckled, walking beside Linhardt as they slowly made their way down the hall. Linhardt never walked at a pace faster than leisurely if he could help it, but he didn’t mind. Because of this, Rodrigue and Felix were already gone by the time they had turned the corner.

“The _attitude_ ,” Linhardt stated with his nose wrinkled like he’d smelled something foul. “It must require so much _effort_.”

He patted the sleepy mage's shoulder as he noted, “I’m pretty sure all relationships require effort, Lin.”

“Thus, why you’ll never see me in one.”

He shrugged. “The effort does have some perks, ya know. Loving someone is actually kind of nice when you try it. You get comfort, someone to cuddle with whenever you want, someone who looks out for you…” He released a strained chuckle and added, “Though I suppose you kind of already have that without any of the effort.”

“Hm?” Linhardt raised his eyebrows. “Oh, you are talking about Byleth. Yes, I suppose if it had to be anyone, she would do quite nicely. She’s a beautiful mystery that I wouldn’t mind unraveling.” He choked a little and had to pound on his chest before being able to take in a deep breath. Linhardt gave an amused chuckle and turned to make his way up to the third floor.

“Where are you going?” he croaked, his voice still hoarse from the unexpected innuendo that was absolutely not doing terrible things in his mind at the moment.

“To listen to a private conversation,” Linhardt answered matter-of-factly.

“What?” He grabbed Lin’s elbow and pulled him off the bottom stair. “No, you’re not. We’re going to get lunch in the dining hall.”

“Lunch?” Linhardt drew in his eyebrows in confusion. “Oh! You were serious. I thought you were using that as an excuse to get out of the awkward Fraldarius family… whatever is going on there.” He kind of just stared mutely, unable to come up with an adequate response. _How does Linhardt always just know this shit?_ “No, I don’t plan on going to the dining hall just yet.”

“You aren’t spying on Byleth,” he insisted in a low voice.

“Come now. Tell me you don’t want to know what _personal matters_ Seteth is discussing with her.” His hesitation spoke volumes, and Linhardt nodded sagely. “I’d wager that man has more secrets than anyone in this monastery—though that is only due to the fact that Rhea is likely locked up in the palace in Enbarr. What if he’s discussing said secrets with Byleth?”

“What?” Byleth had never mentioned anything with Seteth… Though… there was that whole comment about how he knows something about what is happening to her. And… they had rather suddenly been getting along quite nicely after their little conversation after she woke up from her month-long sleep. And… they were supposed to have that meeting yesterday that Byleth was super vague about.

_No. She would tell us if it was important. She would tell us if she wanted us to know._

But… what would she not want them to know?

He shook his head and solidified his grip on Linhardt’s arm. “No. It’s their business, not ours.”

“Sylvain…” Linhardt whined, pouting his lip in that way he always used to when he was bored and wanted Sylvain to fuck him. Fortunately, that face didn’t really work in this context.

“No.” He pulled a protesting Linhardt toward the stairs and tried to push away his own wandering thoughts on what Seteth could possibly be discussing with Byleth.

~Byleth~

She led Cichol and Cethleann into her quarters before closing and locking the doors behind them. She then set the parchment in her arms down on the crowded tea table with a tired sigh and turned to face the supposed Saints. 

Cichol cleared his throat awkwardly and began, “Perhaps we should discuss these matters elsewhere. I was considering the—”

“The Holy Tomb. That won’t be necessary. I’m afraid we’ve already had this conversation. Here should be private enough while I ask you a few questions.” Now that the shock and horror had faded—replaced by exhaustion and existential dread—she had several questions she needed answers to.

“Already had…” She could see the wheels turning in Cichol’s mind before his eyes widened in realization. “You have Mother’s control over time.” She nodded in confirmation, making Cethleann gasp and Cichol sink down onto the lounger at the foot of her bed with a look of absolute exhaustion.

Cethleann was the one to quietly ask, “Linhardt?”

“His body was discovered a few hours after he’d been killed.” The not so young saint’s eyes filled with tears as she placed her hand over her mouth.

“Hours?” Cichol balked.

“Yes,” she sighed. “I had never gone back that far. It was not a pleasant sensation. I would do it again if it meant keeping him alive, though.” She reached into the pocket of the trousers she was wearing and handed Cichol the note she had found on Maggie’s body. "The attacker left me a note." He read aloud:

_**“You may summon your feeble forces, and you may search your tainted archives, but you will never succeed. You cannot stop what is destined to happen. Even your shield cannot keep you and the ones you hold dear from our reach.”** _

His voice started to waver as he continued, _**“What was long ago cast into darkness, will soon be brought into the light. Soon, you will watch your world burn, Fell Star. Then the rule of the beasts will end with you.”**_

“This… this cannot be…” Cichol insisted with something desperate in his tone.

“Yuri was already aware of the masked mages—”

“He… informed me of what happened after the fall of the monastery.” There was true guilt in his expression, but she couldn’t focus on that right now. She would need to check on Yuri later.

“Linhardt was searching the Shadow Library in Abyss for any mention of a group of dark mages, like the ones responsible for Duscur. They found out about it, and killed him to send me a message.”

“Those Who Slither in the Dark…” he murmured, staring at the piece of parchment in his trembling hands. “It… it has to be them, but… Seiros seemed so certain they had all been taken care of.”

“Who are they?”

“We do not know,” he all but seethed. It was an old wound, she could tell. “Every time we get close, they vanish. That is the reason we call them Those Who Slither in the Dark. They are a powerful enemy, who seem to have far more knowledge of us than should be possible.”

“Lin found something… in the Shadow Library.” Emerald eyes flew up to meet hers as Cethleann watched intently, though fear showed in her features. “I can’t remember the exact words, but it talked about a group of people that… ‘fled the sight of the False God’ and something about how they hid in the depths of the earth. They ‘swore revenge on the surface world, ruled by beasts’, and against Sothis.” She pointed to the parchment in Cichol’s hand. “That made me think of it. And the mages in the masks… they are unnaturally pale. So were Kronya and Solon. Thales is…” she shuddered as the image of the mage sneering at her before blasting her off the cliff flashed in her mind. “His skin is pale, and his eyes and hair are unnaturally white…” She paused before asking, “What if one of the nations survived Sothis’ last attack?”

“Impossible,” he indignantly denied. “The land was destroyed. We found very few survivors when we searched, and none of them were near the nations that had started the war in the first place.”

“What if they never came back up? What if they’ve been below the ground this entire time, waiting for the right moments to cause chaos and get their revenge? Thales said that they were responsible for Duscur. I saw Lord Arundel in my vision—"

“Your vision?”

“Sothis showed me the Tragedy of Duscur when I sat on her throne,” she explained.

A choked sound seemed to squeeze out of him before he dropped his head to his hands. “If Mother is trying to warn you of them…” His head popped up and his eyes were painfully wide. He stood and hovered by her as he pointed to the parchment. “Your shield. They know about what you did in the Red Canyon. They think… they must think you are Mother.” 

Cethleann interjected, “When Byleth cut through the sky itself with the Sword of the Creator,” she turned away and wrapped her arms around her torso at the mention of the weapon formed from her friend's bones, “Solon said there was only one being strong enough to escape it. He also called her Fell Star.”

Cethleann became quiet, and the room filled with an oppressive tension as she drew in deep breaths in an attempt to calm herself. Cichol placed a hand on her shoulder and quietly said, “You know about the sword.” 

“How am I supposed to wield it?” She buried her face in her hands with a weary sigh. “All of them respond to me. I’ve held the Aegis Shield and the Lance of Ruin. All of her children… they respond to me. How am I supposed to…” her voice choked with emotion before she could swallow it down, “How am I supposed to live… knowing that I wield Sothis’ bones, and have her heart buried in my chest? How am I supposed to be okay with the fact that I know that my very existence is just… an experiment?” She spat the word, and Cichol grimaced as he looked down at his feet.

“How am I supposed to want to go and find my supposed grandmother, when I know that she only sees me as a vessel for her own mother?”

“What?” Cethleann asked in a horror-filled whisper.

Cichol looked like he bore the weight of the world on his shoulders as he quietly explained, “I believe Seiros took Mother’s heart from Byleth’s mother’s magically created form, and placed it over Byleth’s own heart.”

“Created…? Oh goddess!” Cethleann’s eyes filled with tears. “How could she do such a thing?”

“Seiros has done many things over the centuries in effort to resurrect our Mother, though I did not know that she was willing to tamper with human’s lives in search of her obsession until I arrived at the monastery twenty-six years ago.”

“What about the Church of Seiros and its doctrine? The Saints? Seiros’ control over Fodlan? Is that all her doing? What the fuck happened after Nemesis? Why are the Relics some prized gift when they should be in the Holy Tomb with the other Crest Stones? Why are Crests sought after, ruining the lives of those who bear them?!”

Cichol walked over to sink onto the lounger again, and Cethleann followed, clutching his arm in what might have been a show of support. “To understand, I must tell you of what led to the supposed War of Heroes. You see, after the events at the Red Canyon, Indech fell into a restorative sleep. Macuil took his body into hiding so he could watch over him, and I went home to what is now called Enbarr to find Bresif and Cethleann. I tried to convince Seiros that we should all go into hiding, but she refused. She was set on revenge, and would do whatever it took to slay Nemesis.”

“In the decades that it took for her to amass an army that could rival Nemesis’ own, he had given the remains of our brothers and sisters to his so-called Elites. They had forcefully taken control of the majority of the content, save the area around Enbarr where Seiros was using Mother’s influence to sway the people to rebel. She came to us then, begging us to assist her in her revenge. When we eventually agreed—Bresif, Cethleann, Macuil, Indech, and I—she took us to meet Wilhelm, who was so enamored by Seiros, he would have done anything for her.” He heaved a breath of exasperation as Cethleann giggled quietly into her fist. “She asked us to give our blood to some of Wilhelm’s most trusted allies, in effort to strengthen them and solidify their allegiance.”

“That’s how Linhardt has the Crest of Cethleann,” she realized, looking to the not so young woman.

She giggled, “He thinks we are of distant relation.” Cichol glared at the door as if he was contemplating walking out and throttling the sleepy mage for thinking such a thing.

“You need to be careful what you say to Lin, Cethleann.” She beamed at the use of her true name as Byelth crouched down in front of her. “I’m serious. He’s very perceptive. I’m afraid he might already have an idea of who you actually are, though he has no way to confirm it and he’s missing a lot of puzzle pieces in order to put everything together.”

“You think he has an idea of Cethleann’s identity?” Cichol asked in a low voice, his eyes narrowed dangerously.

“He can be trusted,” she firmly insisted, a flare of protectiveness making her own eyes narrow. “I won’t tell him your secret, but I have told him several pieces of information about myself that he has not shared with anyone else. He is a scholar at heart, always after more information. He will not use it against you as others have.”

“He’s careless in his speech, lazy in his work ethic, and should not to be trusted around Cethleann or yourself,” Cichol angrily countered.

She stood up straight and squared her shoulders as Cethleann let out an exasperated groan. “He is one of my most trusted friends, and you will not speak of him that way or attempt to control me. Is that understood?”

He growled, “Byleth…”

She raised a hand to cut him off. “No. Just because I am like you, does not make me yours to control. I will keep your secrets, but I get to choose whom I trust with my own.”

“You do not understand the dangers that being like us presents! Especially if Those Who Slither in the Dark have truly resurfaced! Cethleann has suffered enough, I will not allow your carelessness to put her in any more danger!” Cichol objected, surging to his feet so he could attempt to loom over her.

“Father!” Cethleann jumped to her feet and grabbed his arm in what was probably an effort to calm the older man down. 

“I would never do anything to endanger Cethleann! I love her, as well! But what do you expect is going to happen when my friends and those I consider family continue to age while I remain the same? I have to tell them _something_!”

Cichol shook his head fervently, “We will be in hiding long before—”

She exclaimed, “What?!” cutting him off.

Emerald green eyes bored into her own as he hissed, “We will be required to go into hiding long before that becomes an issue. Already many look upon Cethleann and I with suspicion. We wouldn’t even take the risk of being here right now if it weren’t for you and Seiros!” 

He would expect her to just… pack up and leave? Go into hiding? Miss out on what years she could have with Felix, Sylvain, Lin, Yuri, and the rest of her Lions? 

Fuck that.

“Then _you_ go into hiding! I will not abandon my friends again!”

Cichol pinched the bridge of his nose as he took a deep breath. In a lower volume he insisted, “You do not yet understand how the passage of time will affect those around you. You do not understand the scrutiny you will be under, nor the ire that you will face.”

“I will not miss out on the years I could have with my friends! Serios’ decision will not take anything else from me!” Her mother, her father, the chance to grow old with those she loved… all of that had already been taken from her. She wouldn’t allow the fact that Sothis’ heart was buried in her chest to take anything else from her.

Something in Cichol seemed to snap and he shouted, “Serios’ decision is the only reason you are _alive_!” Immediately after the words left his mouth his face twisted with shame, but the damage had been done.

“I’m leaving.” She turned on her heel and headed for the door. Cichol lunged forward and grabbed her wrist as he pleaded her to wait, but she ripped her arm away. She glared at him as she hissed, “I never asked to be _created_. Seiros may be your sister, but it’s obvious to me that she has A LOT to answer for when we find her.”

The slam of the door behind her cut off Cichol’s, “Byleth, please!”

~Felix~

“There you are,” his mother cooed, walking up to pull him into an embrace as soon as he walked in the door of his parent’s temporary home. “How did the war council go?”

His father answered, “Byleth is surprisingly capable for one raised as a wandering mercenary.” He rolled his eyes at his father’s comment, but didn’t say anything to refute it. He’d be lying if he said he wasn’t regularly impressed by how she commands a room full of heirs to noble houses and seasoned knights as if it’s nothing.

His mother’s eyebrows furrowed in concern as she pulled him further into the room. It was slightly unnerving to be in here, knowing the last person who dwelt in here was Jeralt. “How is she after last night? I heard she was the one who saved that poor young man? How fortunate for him that she was there in time.”

“How fortunate indeed,” he dryly commented. His parents both cast him a sideways glance but he shrugged it off. He turned to his father and gruffly asked, “What did you need to give me?”

His mother frowned. “Can’t we sit and have some tea first?”

“I have training to do, Mother. There is a reason that we are here, after all. This isn’t a holiday at Garreg Mach.”

“I’m well aware of that,” his mother countered in a stern voice. “Surely the thirty minutes it takes to take tea with your mother won’t impede your training that severely. I even procured a late lunch for you, thinking you would be hungry after that long war council meeting.”

He sighed heavily and shook his head. “I’m sorry. It was a long night, and I’m… not in the most companionable mood.”

A slight smile lit up his mother’s face as she placed tea leaves in a pot to steep, taking the apology as a concession to staying for tea. “Because you are worried about Byleth?” 

“The damnable woman insists on running headlong into danger without heed for her own safety,” he grumbled, dropping into a seat at the small tea table with a huff. “She insists that she’s fine, turning away everyone that insists that she have people with her to guard her in case of trouble like last night.”

“I’m assuming you mean she’s turning _you_ away,” his mother speculated with a raised eyebrow.

He groaned in frustration and ran a hand through his ponytail. “I’m supposed to be protecting her! I can hardly do that when she keeps brushing me off! The attack last night is the exact reason that she needs someone with her at all times. Who knows who else the emperor and her allies have planted in our ranks?! They could be anyone!” His mother handed him a covered plate of food, and he ripped off the wrapping with far more force than necessary. His father chuckled, though whether it was due to his words or his attack on the wrapping, he wasn’t sure.

His deep voice prodded, “Sylvain says you’ve sworn yourself as her Sword and Shield.” He scowled down at his food and made a mental note to scold Sylvain later. “That is quite the oath, my son.”

He barked, “What? You’re disappointed I’m not swearing myself to the boar?” 

His father’s eyebrows climbed up his forehead as an amused smile curved his lips. “Swearing yourself? What an interesting choice of words.”

“Rodrigue…” his mother playfully batted at his father’s arm with a small chuckle.

Warmth rushed to his cheeks, even as he tried to push it down. After swallowing the food he had in his mouth he groused, “You know what I meant.”

“Do I?” His father stood and walked through a door to the side, reemerging moments later with a long thin package. “Perhaps this would be of use to you.” He put down his fork and took the package from his father outstretched hands, placing it on his knees as he pulled off the lid.

“The Sword of Moralta?” A shimmer crossed the sheathe as he pulled it from the box and drew out the blade. The sacred weapon had been passed down through his family for ages, and normally hung on the wall in his father’s study. He and Glenn often snuck in to stare at it when he was younger as Glenn recounted tales of the heroes who had wielded it.

“I thought you could give it to Byleth,” his father explained before taking a sip of the tea his mother had poured for him.

“What? Why in the hell would I give Byleth a sacred weapon that has been passed down through our family for generations?!” His father looked amused, but his mother was looking at him like he was stupid.

Realization struck like a thunder spell and he clicked the sword back in its sheath and threw it back into its case. “No! That’s not… we’re not… I don’t…” Why wouldn’t his tongue finish a damn sentence? _Fuck_!

“You’re not?” His mother’s eyebrows furrowed in concern as a small pout pulled at her lips.

“No! We’re not!” He was tempted to throw the box on the floor in his anger, but he respected the blade, so he stood and walked over to place it on one of the loungers on the other side of the small sitting area. He couldn’t think about this, especially not after everything that had happened in Gautier with that damned necklace. What would Sylvain think if he knew?

He resented his father's genuine confusion as he asked, “You… aren't?” 

“Drop it. Besides, Byleth has the Sword of the Creator. Why would she need that blade?”

“It was meant to be more… symbolic…” His father glanced toward the box on the lounger, still looking perplexed. “I suppose you could wield it, if you wished to?”

“I already have a blade.”

“You do, but your blade does not heal you in battle.”

He took a bite of his food and smugly responded, “It does, actually.” His father’s wide eyes darted down to the pommel of Byleth’s blade and then back up to his face. “You don’t believe me?”

The old man stammered, “I just… I never knew.”

“Byleth blessed it herself.” He stood and pulled the blade from its sheathe, before he carefully handed it to his father. The old man grasped the pommel and his eyes widened even further, to the point where it seemed they might burst from his skull.

“I suppose one blessed by the goddess herself would have the power necessary to bless a weapon like this.” He had to bite back a snort of amusement at the thought that the old man had absolutely no idea. “When did you receive this?”

He took another bite of food, watching as his father moved toward an open part of the room to swing the blade. “Byleth gave it to me for my eighteenth birthday. I’ve carried it ever since.”

His mother pointed out, “It bears the Crest of Flames on the pommel, Rodrigue. Haven’t you noticed? Your son has been carrying it for five years.”

“I suppose I wasn’t paying significant attention to the sword on my son’s hip,” his father stated in an almost awed tone. “What a remarkable gift.”

His mother smiled sweetly in that way that always warned him that she was about to say something that was going to piss him off. “Are you certain you don’t—” 

He cut her off with a firm, “Stop, Mother. We’re in the middle of a war, the last thing on my mind is who I wish to marry.” Not strictly true, but something that they would certainly believe. Wasn’t that his whole thing? That he couldn’t see anything past the end of his blade?

“But you were so smitten by her when you were young,” his mother cooed, looking off into the distance like she could see a young Felix going on and on about Byleth and how he'd spent what little time he’d had with her. He raised an unamused eyebrow and returned to his meal, ignoring the heat in his cheeks and his mother’s analytical stare. She sighed in apparent disappointment and took a sip of her tea. “We just want you to be happy, my heart.”

He grumbled, “I’ll be happy when this war is over,” in response.

“Hear, hear,” his father agreed. The old man walked over and handed him his blade, and he stood to return it to the sheathe on his hip. “What do you know of Duke Riegan? He attended the Academy the same year you did, did he not?”

“He’s insufferable,” he muttered. “Especially when it comes to Byleth.”

The old man’s eyebrows furrowed. “When it comes to Byleth?”

“Nothing,” he sighed, realizing he’d said too much. “He’s good with a bow and he has an entire army at his disposal if we can obtain him as an ally. I’m not fond of him, but that’s not saying much because I’m not fond of most people. Byleth says we need him if we’re going to end the war, so we need him. Nothing else really matters.”

His father hummed, “I suppose that’s true.”

They finished their lunches and tea in relative peace. He idly considered the fact that it was almost… nice… doing this with them. His leg still bounced beneath the table, and his hands kept clenching with the desire to leave and train, but he knew it was a milestone that they were able to do this. He tried to take the small win.

When he was finished, he stood and said, “I should go. There’s training to be done.”

“Alright,” his mother sighed. She stood and placed a kiss on his cheek with a fond smile.

“Take the sword with you, Felix. Perhaps Byleth can find a good use for it?” His father nodded before pouring himself more tea and sitting back in his chair.

“Fine.” At the very least, Byleth appreciated rare weapons just as much as he did. She might enjoy handling it for a while. He reiterated, “I’m not giving it to her as some grand gesture, though.”

“That’s fine,” his father waved dismissively. “A sacred weapon could prove useful either way. We’ll retrieve it at the end of the war.” He grunted in acknowledgement, picked up the sword, nodded in farewell, and left for the training grounds.

As soon as he opened the door to the Training Grounds, he heard the clash of blades. Noticeably, it was steel training blades, rather than the wooden ones. They were dulled somewhat, but could still do enough damage in the hands of one who knew how to wield it, and the fact that it was Catherine and Byleth clashing in the center of the grounds meant that they certainly did. 

It only took one look at Byleth’s face to have him on edge. She still looked exhausted, apparent in the darkness beneath her eyes, but her face was flushed from exertion and her eyes were nearly wild as she parried a strike from Catherine. Several of the knights and a few of the former students stood around the arena, watching with bated breath as the two most skill swordswomen in the monastery—perhaps in all of Fodlan—swung at one another with cries of frustration and exertion.

He spotted Caspar out of the corner of his eye, nearly vibrating with excitement as he watched Byleth duck beneath one of Catherine’s strikes and close the distance between them to land a punch to her side. He made his way over and nudged the brawler, who nodded in greeting before gluing his eyes back on the fight.

“How long have they been at it?” Catherine was noticeably panting, and seemed far more tired than Byleth did, even with the physical signs of Byleth’s weariness. 

“Fifteen minutes, maybe?” He tilted his head in thought and then shrugged. “The Professor came in and said she wanted to spar and Catherine was super pumped! They’ve been like this ever since.”

“Was Byleth upset?” He felt he already knew the answer, but he figured he’d ask.

“Upset?” Caspar pursed his lips in thought, eyes still trained to the spar in front of him, and shrugged again. “I don’t know. It’s hard to tell with the Professor, ya know?” Caspar wasn’t necessarily the best judge of someone’s moods, but he had a point. Felix had spent far more time analyzing Byleth’s expressions than most people had. He found it was especially easy to tell if she was upset when she had a blade in her hand, such as this instance. There was no playful smirk as she parried another blow, only grim determination as she counterattacked. 

Catherine brought her blade up to parry, and they ended up blade locked, both of them had their teeth gritted as they each pushed forward. Rather suddenly, Byleth eased up, using the momentum from Catherine’s push to spin to her left, bring her sword up, and use the hilt to strike Catherine in the shoulder blade of her sword arm. The older woman released a pained cry, which cut off in a grunt as the back of her knees were kicked out at the exact moment Byleth shoved the blonde forward with her shoulder, and Catherine fell to the dirt face first.

“Damn! That never gets old,” Caspar chuckled, before cheering loudly with some of the other knights that had watched the round. Byleth wasn’t paying the cheers any mind, instead she was inspecting Catherine’s shoulder and healing it with an apologetic grimace. He grunted in acknowledgement and moved to lean against one of the stone pillars with the Sword of Moralta’s carrying box in hand, waiting for her to notice him.

It didn’t take long. She helped Catherine to her feet, clasped arms with her as a sign of respect for the bout, and then met his gaze over the Holy Knight’s shoulder. He nodded in greeting, watching as brilliant green eyes darted down to the box in his hand before she nodded in return. She walked over to rerack her blade before walking over to actually greet him.

“I take it that’s the present from your father?”

“It’s not really a present,” he denied, shaking his head firmly. “I’m sure you’d like to see it, though.” She lifted an eyebrow in expressed interest and he crouched to set the case on the ground before bringing out the blade. “The Sword of Moralta, a sacred weapon passed down through the Fraldarius family since the time of the Elites.” If he hadn’t been watching her face, he would have missed the there and then gone look of disgust.

He gruffly asked, “What?”

“Hm?” She raised an eyebrow and he narrowed his eyes at her. “I’m assuming Rodrigue gave it to you for battle?”

“Yes,” he grunted, deciding to let it go for now, “but I told him I already have a blade.” 

She blew a heavy breath from her nose—her old form of laughter when she first arrived at the monastery. “I’m sure a sacred weapon would be far more useful than the blade I gifted you.”

“It’s not actually.” Her eyes moved from the blade up to his face. “My father was impressed by the blessing on your sword. He agrees with me.” She shrugged, but he saw the faintest uptick at the side of her mouth.

He quietly asked, “What’s wrong?” 

“Nothing.” She was being dismissive again, and he grit his teeth in an effort to keep sharp words from flying out of his mouth. “May I hold it?” He handed it to her, and she grasped the pommel, an evaluating look in her eye. She pulled it from its sheath and handed the sheath to him, before stepping back enough to swing it. The blade was far heavier than what he was used to— _another reason he wasn’t eager to wield it in battle, it would only slow him down_ —but he was willing to believe it would almost be light to her when compared to the Sword of the Creator.

He watched, entranced, as she tested the blade, eventually elongating her swings as she lunged and weaved around, like she was dancing to music only she could hear. He lost track of time as he watched her, and thus wasn’t paying attention, allowing Sylvain to sneak up on him. He startled, whipping around to face the redhead, who had a look of mischief in his eyes. 

Suddenly, Sylvain’s eyes widened and Felix turned to find that the Sword of Moralta shimmered in Byleth’s hand, leaving a trail of light in its wake with each swing. He had heard that such a thing happened sometimes if the sacred weapon was wielded by one who was “worthy of it” but he had never actually seen such a thing happen. If Byleth noticed what was happening, it didn’t deter her. She continued to dance within the dirt arena as the grounds fell silent, and people turned to watch. Watching Byleth fight was one of his favorite past times, sparring with her being one of the only things that surpassed it, but right now was… something else. She was ethereal and deadly, her swings precise and her face still as she elegantly flowed through each movement. He was distantly aware that Sylvain released something of an enamored sigh and leaned against the pillar beside him, but he only had eyes for Byleth.

She finished a few minutes later, and she released a heavy exhale as she dropped her sword arm back to her side. As if she didn’t even see the awe in everyone’s faces, she walked over and evenly asked, “If you aren’t using this in battle, do you mind if I do?”

“What?” His voice croaked over the single word, and he cleared his throat before trying again. “What? Why?”

“It’s a fine blade,” she answered noncommittally. The normal sounds of the training grounds resumed as everyone slowly went back to whatever they were doing.

“What about the Sword of the Creator?” He sounded incredulous. He WAS incredulous. Why would she wish to fight with the Sword of Moralta when she could wield a Relic? 

“I miss the feel of a real blade.” She took the sheath from his hands as he stared dumbly at her, his mind still in something of a stupor from watching her.

Byleth’s eyes flicked to the door before she said, “I know I said we would train this evening, but I’m feeling rather tired. Would you mind if we trained tomorrow instead?” He’d been looking forward to it, so his heart sank a bit, but it only took one glance to know that she needed the rest. 

“That’s fine. I’ll come with you.”

She shrugged. “I think I’ll grab Lin and take him up with me.”

He crossed his arms and narrowed his eyes at her. “Linhardt is a healer, not a fighter. If you’re attacked, you need someone who can defend you properly.” 

He was expecting her to challenge him on it—to raise her chin in defiance and give him that look that always made his blood heat beneath his skin, but she did none of that. Instead, she sighed and mumbled, “Well, Balthus was up all night, guarding the infirmary…”

Sylvain softly interjected, “We don’t mind staying with you, By.”

“Okay. Why not?” She did that thing she had been doing all day—pursing of her lips like she was trying and ultimately failing to smile. She looked to him as she asked, “Do you mind retiring early? I’m sure you wanted to train.”

Sylvain quietly offered, “I can walk her up now if you want to train for a bit?”

He looked between them for a moment, uneasy about how strange Byleth was acting. Part of him wanted to leave them to their own devices—knowing that if anyone was going to get Byleth to open up about what was bothering her, it would likely be Sylvain—but at the same time he wanted answers. He wanted to know what truly happened with the attack down in Abyss, and why Byleth was so… off… today. 

“No, I’ll come.” 

Sylvain nodded and held out an arm for Byleth to take. She glanced over to where Caspar was working on a dummy with his training axe and called out to the blue-haired brawler, who immediately turned to give her his full attention. “Would you mind keeping an eye on Linhardt for me tonight? I’m sure he’s fine now, but I would feel better if you were with him.”

Caspar swung the axe up to rest on his shoulder before pumping his fist in the air and calling back, “For sure, Professor!” He moved to rack his weapon as the three of them made their way out the doors. 

He mumbled, “I’ll go grab us some clothes,” but didn’t wait for a reply before heading toward the dorms. He needed a minute to get his brain in order. Something about this whole situation felt so wrong, and the fact that Byleth was acting weird yesterday, compounded with the fact that she was being dismissive today left him feeling… useless. If she were upset with them, she wouldn’t be allowing them to stay in her room tonight. He knew that. Was she upset because it was this “shadow group” that attacked Linhardt? Was there more to it that they didn’t know? Was there something she wasn’t telling them?

He knocked at Byleth’s door with sleep clothes in hand and Sylvain opened it. “She’s in the bath,” was his quiet greeting.

“Did she say anything?” 

“No. She’s been quiet.” Sylvain sighed and began taking off his armor as he walked toward Byleth’s office/Balthus’ sleeping area when he stayed in Byleth’s room to change. He quietly admitted, “I’m worried about her.”

“I know. She’s been acting weird all day.”

“Linhardt… he wanted to listen in on her conversation with Seteth and Flayn. He made a comment that Seteth has more secrets than anyone in the monastery.” He paused as he’d pulled his shirt off. “Don’t you think it’s weird that they’ve been getting along so much better ever since she woke up from her month-long rest?”

“They’ve barely been around each other since then.”

“I get that, but they had that secretive conversation when she first woke up, and then they were supposed to meet last night.”

He noted, “Seteth did say it was personal matters today, but she said yesterday was about church stuff. Obviously last night never happened because she had to go and save Linhardt.”

“Exactly. I mean… I know she would tell us if it was something she wanted us to know… but…” he paused as he finished pulling on his sleepclothes. “I just feel weird. I feel like she’s not telling us something. And… I don’t trust Seteth.” He huffed in agreement, moving to pull on his shirt as the washroom door opened.

Byleth walked out in a towel and moved to the wardrobe to grab clothes as he and Sylvain made their way to the bed, having left their armor and clothes in the office. Sylvain chirped, “Feeling better?”

She hummed, “Cleaner,” as she pulled out what looked like an oversized shirt. She moved behind the open door of the wardrobe and threw the towel over it as she changed.

He hurriedly asked, “What happened last night?” Goddess knows he wasn’t known for being patient, anyway.

Byleth sighed audibly before stepping out from behind the door of the wardrobe in the black shirt that fell just passed her upper thighs. His eyes couldn’t resist trailing up her body before resting on her face, finding it in that mask she usually wore when she was trying to hold it together. “I had to turn back time far longer than I ever had before to save Lin, that’s why I’m so tired.” 

She crawled onto the opposite side of the bed and got beneath the covers, sitting up against the pillows and headboard. She fiddled with the blankets as she continued, “I went to my meeting with Seteth, and when it was over, Yuri found me. He warped me down to Abyss, where Lin was…” She bowed her head and whispered, “He had likely been dead for hours before anyone found him.”

Both he and Sylvain incredulously asked, “Hours?” As far as he knew she’d only ever gone back by a few minutes.

“It was… unpleasant.” She shuddered slightly, still looking down at her hands. Sylvain moved to sit beside her, and she leaned on him somewhat and she quietly said, “But it worked, and that’s all that matters.” 

“Why didn’t you come and find us? You could have been hurt! Or worse!” He couldn’t help the frustration that leaked into his tone. He wanted to protect her, but he couldn’t do that if she wouldn’t let him.

Why wouldn’t she let him?

“I’m sorry,” she whispered. He could have sworn she sounded like she was about to start crying. He immediately moved to sit near her legs, lightly placing a hand on one closest to him as she continued, “I… I was so scared I wouldn’t get there in time. All I could think about was saving Lin. I couldn’t let him die… I promised him he wouldn’t die as long as I was around… but I broke my promise…” Her shoulders began to tremble as she dropped her head to her hands.

She brokenly whispered, “I always break my promises.” 

“Hey, hey, hey,” Sylvain murmured, pulling her against his side. “You couldn’t have known that someone would attack him. You went back and changed it, that’s what matters. Right?” 

He barely heard her as she admitted, “I’m just… I’m so tired of watching you all die because of me.” He froze, unsure of what to do. The amount of power she had always blew him away, but he couldn’t imagine the emotional ramifications of what she does every time they go into battle. The fact that this happened outside of battle, to someone like Linhardt who absolutely abhorred violence, probably made it even more traumatic. Of course, she was acting weird today. She was already upset after the ambush, adding Linhardt’s death on top of that only makes it that much worse. 

He tried to comfort her by saying, “You didn’t attack Linhardt. It wasn’t because of you,” but she shook her head.

“It was. Linhardt’s death was meant to hurt me.”

Sylvain sounded as alarmed as he felt as he asked, “What?”

“I’m… I’m so tired…” She scooted down to bury her head in the pillow. “Can we talk about this some other time?” 

He wanted to object. He wanted to know what she meant by that, and he was ready to demand answers if necessary, but Sylvain was quicker to answer. He ran a hand through her damp hair as he softly answered, “That’s fine, By.” Honey eyes searched out his, and he nodded in silent agreement. 

He only hoped she would tell them more when she was ready.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Byleth: Sylvain and Felix know something is wrong... I have to tell them SOMETHING   
> *tells them a tiny portion of what's wrong*
> 
> Felix: Damn. That tracks.
> 
> Honestly, I saw a meme that was Rhea, Seteth, and Flayn singing the gem song from Steven Universe "Come and Let Us Adore You" (Something like that? Maybe you've seen it.) Anyway, I got to thinking about how Seteth would mentally just lump Byleth into the concept of "Family: Must Protect" (I mentally said it in a caveman voice) and how that would probably drive Byleth crazy. Seteth is pretty overbearing with Flayn. I honestly think he would be the same with Byleth. 
> 
> I know I keep having Byleth run out on these conversations, but I really do think that Seteth would pull that crap, and she's been through a lot. It's hard to have these conversations that unravel all of Seiros' bullshit, anyway. She's gotta take it in small doses. 
> 
> Let me know what you think in the comments. Also I'm aware that the last few chapters have been super heavy, and I promise the next chapter is going to have some lighthearted moments. Sorry!
> 
> BTW! Happy Holidays people!


	27. Secrets I Have Held in My Heart, Are Harder to Hide Than I Thought

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Chapter title pulled from "I Wanna Be Yours" by the Arctic Monkeys
> 
> Byleth has an interesting dream, which leads to an earth shattering realization. Trouble brews in the Sealed Forest which have lasting consequences.

~Byleth~

_She was in the greenhouse, on her knees near the plant beds, weeding the lilies she’d been growing for the last few weeks. A melody was being softly hummed as she looked over the flowers, checking them with care. They were beautiful. It stirred something in her chest, but it was weak. Muted._

_She wiped her hands on a damp cloth, cleaning them as best she could before slowly standing, waving farewell to the greenhouse keeper, and walking outside. It was sunset, the sky was lit up in various hues of pink, orange, and purple as she made her way to the fishing pier. She was supposed to be meeting someone._

_She continued to hum as she sat at the edge of the pier, closing her eyes as a light breeze brushed the hair from her face. She kicked her feet just above the water while folding her hands primly on her lap. When she opened her eyes, she looked down at her hands, which were still slightly dirty from her time in the greenhouse. She shifted to her knees and leaned over the water, set on rinsing her hands in the pond, and caught a glimpse of her reflection._

_It… almost looked like her… but it wasn’t. Deep green tresses, nearly identical to the color of her dress, framed a heart-shaped face so similar to her own. Green eyes, darker in hue than her own, stared back at her, slightly crinkled in amusement. Or perhaps excitement?_

_The woman reflected on the water leaned forward to rinse her hands, but tipped a little too far. She could feel a flip in her stomach as she began to fall forward, only for a strong arm to wrap around her waist and pull her to safety._

_“Careful there,” a familiar voice chuckled, the sound deep and rumbling. “What is Rhea going to think if you’ve been swimming in the fishing pond?” Something stirred, stronger than when she looked at the flowers, and when she turned to look to the person who had spoken, her stomach became… fluttery. She imagined it would feel like this if a butterfly flitted around inside of her._

_“You’re back,” her body said. The pitch of her voice was soft, unfamiliar, but she knew she sounded glad._

_“I told you I’d meet you here, didn’t I?” Jeralt held out his rough and calloused hand with a broad smile, and she took it, making that fluttering sensation increase as their hands met. “I have a present for you. Close your eyes.” She did so, plunging everything into darkness. That same deep rumbling chuckle sounded out in front of her before Jeralt said, “Okay, open them.”_

_Warmth filled her chest as her eyes landed on a type of flower she had never laid eyes upon before. It was lovely—the tiny bulbs a light shade of pink that seemed to grow in little bunches. She clasped her hands together in front of her in her excitement._

_Excitement. That is what she was feeling. Muted though it was, she could tell._

_Jeralt handed her the flowers as he softly said, “I always love it when you smile like that.” She loved it when he smiled, too. He always pretended to be so gruff and serious, but she knew he wasn’t deep down. When he looked at her like that, his deep brown eyes full of adoration as he stared at her, she knew. She found herself briefly lost in them, enjoying the sense of comfort that always came when he was nearby._

_“I love you,” her body softly responded. The softly spoken words caused a slight flush to appear on Jeralt’s scarred cheeks._

_His free hand moved to the back of his neck as he shook his head slowly. He was embarrassed. She always loved it when he made that face, it made him look so much softer. So much happier. “I love you, too, Sitri.” He smiled warmly before bashfully saying, “Would you like to hear about our mission? Derdrui is so beautiful this time of year, I wish you could have seen it.”_

_She looped her arms around Jeralt’s, feeling content as she leaned her head against his strong shoulder. “Tell me everything,” she answered, bringing the flowers to her nose so she could breathe in the delightful scent._

_“Anything for you.”_  


She sat up with a deep gasping breath, her chest heaving as she took in her surroundings. She was in her room, the Archbishop’s quarters, wrapped up in the same blankets she’d fallen asleep in the night before. Her cheeks were wet with tears when she brushed her hands along them. Sunlight trickled into the room, though she could tell it was the early morning light. 

A dream, then? A vision? One of Sothis’ memories?

Could that truly have been…?

She quietly crept out of bed and changed into some training clothes, trying not to wake Balthus in the next room. She doubted he would be able to hear anything over the sound of his own snoring, but she couldn’t be too careful. When she was dressed, she silently opened the door and shut it behind her, before creeping down the stairs. 

When she reached the first floor, she nodded in greeting to a monk, who seemed to be heading to the Cathedral, before making her way out of the door on her right. From there, it was a short walk to the steps, and then down into the graveyard. She stopped in front of her parent’s gravestone and got down on her knees, pulling the silver ring from its pouch to put it on her finger.

“I think I dreamed about you just now…” she whispered. She knew that Sitri couldn’t hear her—she knew that was impossible—but when she ran her fingertips over the headstone, she could feel the grooves of her mother’s name, and somehow that felt grounding, like she was truly here. “Sitri... I think father was right, I do look a lot like you.” When she closed her eyes, she could recall the doe eyes, so like her own. Their lips and facial structure were so alike, as well. She wished she could have seen Sitri’s smile. That was what Jeralt said he liked the most, right? He said they had the same smile after they rescued Flayn together… the first time she ever truly smiled, and laughed. Her birthday.

“That had to be you. And dad. He… he brought you flowers.” Her eyes filled with tears as she moved to sit back against the headstone. She wasn’t sure why she was crying. She wasn’t sad. At least… she didn’t think she was. She’d never been able to miss her mother, probably because she’d never even met her.

She did miss her father. The feeling was so complicated and messy, especially with the recent revelations she’d had, but she still wished he were here, wished she could talk to him. What would he say about all of this? What was he thinking when he ran away from the monastery? Did he truly spend twenty years on the road, terrified, only for them to end up here anyway? Was it truly fate that made all of this happen?

“I’ve been thinking about you both a lot lately,” she whispered, though no one was around to hear her. “It’s… odd. I think it’s because of everything Cichol told me. I think it’s because I know now… that Sitri and I had the same heart.” She placed the hand with her mother’s ring over her unbeating heart— _Sothis’ Crest Stone_ —as she looked up at the sky, becoming lighter and lighter as the bells of the cathedral chimed. People would be waking up now, and she would probably be missed, but it was so pleasant here at this time of day. 

She felt… at peace. She hadn’t felt like this in a long time.

“You loved father a lot, didn’t you? Is that… what love feels like?” It sounded ridiculous when she said it out loud. She could feel the heat rising in her cheeks as she looked at the ring on her finger, watching the light bounce off the colored stones. “I wonder…”

She remembered now, the melody that Sitri had been humming. It was one of the hymns she used to sing with the students during choir practice. She hummed it softly as she watched the sun continue to rise, burning off the last of the early morning mist that still covered the monastery.

Why did she have that vision in the first place? She wanted to believe that it was Sothis, trying to give her some sort of answer about her mother, but she didn’t think it was that simple. However, she chose to believe it, anyway. “I miss you, Sothis. I wish you could talk to me like you used to. Maybe you could explain why all of this is happening, it certainly seems like you have your memories back now. And… you’d understand how it feels to turn back time again and again. How it feels to remember, when no one else does. I miss that. I miss you.”

She hummed a while longer as she looked out over the horizon. “What am I supposed to do about the sword?” She sighed and tilted her head against her parent’s headstone. “Would you hate me now that you know what it is? Would you hate me if I still used it? Nemesis used it to kill so many of your children, and it was made from you. How am I supposed to use it like I used to?”

She lifted her head from where it rested. She could hear… shouting? What was going on? She stood and brushed the dirt off of her clothes, gave one last pat to her parents’ headstone and walked toward the stairs.

Okay… Someone was definitely yelling.

She reached the courtyard in front of the old classrooms, but didn’t see anyone. She grimaced as she realized where the yelling could be coming from. She jogged up the stairs, waving to Hanneman on the second floor, before continuing toward the third floor, only to barely dodge Felix as he barreled down the stairs.

“What the fuck?!” He grabbed her arms, searching her face with frantic amber eyes before squeezing her into an embrace. It felt a bit too rough to be a real hug, but she didn’t really get many of those from Felix so she just let it happen.

She wheezed, “What’s going on?”

He pulled back to glare at her. “What’s going on?! You weren’t in your room! That’s what’s going on!” 

“I went for a walk,” she explained with a small shrug.

“You… _damnable woman_.” He released a heavy breath and turned to run back up the stairs, only to find Balthus making his way down. 

“There ya are, pal! Geez! You just about gave me a heart attack.”

She sighed, “I’m fine! Honestly… I don’t understand why you guys are so worried.”

“You don’t _understand_?!” Felix exclaimed, whipping around to glare down at her again. “There was an attack two weeks ago. Linhardt almost _died_ , but you don’t understand why we’re freaking out?”

“Okay… why don’t we just calm down?” Balthus chuckled nervously and put his hand on Felix’s shoulder, but the enraged swordsman brushed him off.

He pointed an accusing finger at the much taller man as he seethed, “You should have been watching her. That’s your fucking job, isn’t it?! That’s what she keeps telling me!”

“Felix! Would you stop? Honestly, he was still sleeping, and I wanted to take a walk. I’m fine. Everything is fine. Calm down!”

“You can’t do that!” Felix turned to look back down at her, his eyes a bit wild, but still somehow vulnerable. It was enough to stir something in her chest, though she couldn’t understand what it was. She truly hated it when Felix got like this, but it seemed to be happening more and more now. “Do you understand? Do you get how scared we were just now? I know that you hate it. I know you want to be alone. I know that you hate being here, and that you wish you could just leave, but—”

“Hey...” She reached up and grabbed Felix’s hand, only to have her whole body go rigid when she felt a fluttering sensation in her stomach, like a butterfly was flitting about inside her. _Oh… oh goddess… It’s… it’s just the dream, getting into my head. It’s nothing._

“What?” Felix snapped, still looking wound up as she stared up at him.

Her voice sounded oddly far away as she said, “Why don’t you go and get some breakfast, Balthus? We’ll meet you down there in a bit.”

“Sure thing, boss.” She glanced over to Balthus, who lightly punched her shoulder and sent her a wink as he walked past her. “Glad you’re okay.”

“Come here.” She pulled on Felix’s hand and led him back up the stairs. The angry swordsman was still grumbling something under his breath as she turned and made her way toward the Star Terrace. 

He stopped grumbling long enough to ask, “Where are we—”

She sighed, “Just come with me.” When they walked out onto the Terrace, she released his hand and took a deep breath before turning back to fully face him. “I’m sorry I worried you. That wasn’t my intention, but I will try to do better in the future.”

“I meant what I said,” he snapped. His eyes were narrowed and intense as he stepped closer to her. 

“What?”

“When you woke up. When I apologized for being an asshole. I meant what I said.”

“What do you mean?” Honestly, she was a little breathless right now, and she didn’t fully understand why.

He growled in frustration and ran a hand through his mostly unbound hair, and her hands twitched with the urge to pull it out of its haphazard ponytail. He had probably messed it up while he was worried earlier, he had a tendency for doing that. “I said I wanted to be your Sword. Your Shield. Do you even remember this? Why am I even—”

She quietly interrupted, “I remember.” How could she not? It was the most vulnerable she’d seen him since they were young. He’d poured out his heart to her… told her he couldn’t lose her again.

_Oh… Oh goddess._

“What?” Felix’s eyebrows drew together in concern as he stepped closer to her. “What’s wrong?”

“N-Nothing?”

“You’re making that face.”

“What face?”

“That one you make when you’re secretly freaking out.”

“I’m not freaking out. I was just… thinking. About that that day. You know…” Amber eyes searched her face, for what she wasn’t sure, until he sighed and ran his fingers through his hair again. The tie gave up its fruitless battle and fell to the floor, sending silky raven hair tumbling down to Felix’s shoulders and into his face. She loved how much it softened his features. He cursed under his breath and began to move—probably to pick up his fallen hair tie—but stopped when she reached up and lightly brushed the hair out of his face.

He froze before standing fully to meet her gaze instead. “I meant what I said that day. You might not… get this… but that’s a big deal for me. But I can’t…” he clenched his eyes shut and released a heavy breath, “I can’t protect you if you won’t let me. And… it’s killing me that you won’t just _let me._ ” His eyes opened again and she realized she felt hot all over. 

_Oh goddess… No. No. Shit. Fuck. All the other obscenities that I can’t think of right now._

She blurted out, “I was in the graveyard,” as she lifted her left hand where her mother’s ring still sat. She had to get him to stop talking about this. She couldn’t handle any of this right now.

Felix’s eyebrows furrowed in confusion as he reached for her hand and held it still so he could examine the ring. “What? Where did you get this?”

She stammered, “Have I never shown you this? It was my mothers. I didn’t… I didn’t wake Balthus up and take him with me because I was going to the graveyard. I… I wanted to be alone… but I shouldn’t have run off. I’m sorry.”

“I’m not just talking about this morning,” he grumbled, still holding her hand so he could examine the ring, much to her dismay. “I’m talking about with Linhardt, and in battle, and every other time that you seem to just… brush us off!”

_Shit. Fuck. Sylvain._

“I just… you guys are… in love… and…”

Felix grabbed her arms and shook her slightly as he insisted, “That doesn’t mean you have to send us away!”

“But…” Oh goddess… she was getting emotional. There was a lump forming in her throat, and it was getting harder to breathe. “I just… want you to have time to yourselves. You shouldn’t have to watch out for me all the time.”

“Have you even been listening to me?!” Felix was so close now, and it felt like her skin was on fire where his hands held her arms. Goddess… she’s been such a fool. How did she not see? How did she not _realize_? That is what all of these weird feelings were ever since she’d come back. “I _want_ to watch out for you all the time. So does Sylvain.”

“I don’t want… to be a burden.” Sothis help her, her vision was blurring with tears. Felix’s eyes widened in alarm before he promptly pulled her to his chest. 

He frantically cried out, “What are you even talking about?! You aren’t a burden! You could never be a burden!”

Her voice wavered as she said, “I don’t want to get in the way. I just want you guys to be happy.” Oh goddess, her chest ached. _Pull it together, Byleth. Pull yourself together._

He irritably grumbled, “We’d be happier if you’d stop brushing us off.” She chuckled breathlessly, and he shifted one of his hands to cup the back of her head as he brought his forehead back to rest it against her own. “So, stop brushing us off. Okay?” _NOW Felix wants to be touchy? NOW?_

She stepped back with a short nod, glancing off to the side to look into the small pond instead of at Felix. “I’ll try.”

“You don’t try, you do. You always have.”

“Right.” She chuckled nervously and ran her hands through her hair. “I’m hungry. Breakfast?”

Felix stepped closer and quietly asked, “Are you sure you’re okay?”

She abruptly stepped away and blurted, “Totally fine. Let’s go.” He looked like he didn’t believe her, but he followed her as she walked away, pulling up his hair again as they went, and didn’t say anything more.

As they walked down the stairs and made their way to the dining hall, she could almost hear Sothis’ voice telling her she was a fool over and over. Of course, she was a fool. Of course, the person who’d made her feel for the first time all those years ago would be the person she would fall in love with when she didn’t even think herself capable of such a thing. How many times did Sothis make comments about it? About him? How many times did they have those moments, the ones that were full of this… energy… that she couldn’t explain?

Why was she such an idiot?

And why in the hell was this happening _now_?

She quietly groaned, “Fuck,” as she pulled at her hair, unable to help it with the frustration that was building in her chest.

“Hm?” Felix looked to her in question and she shook her head.

She dismissively said, “I just… realized I forgot to do something. Never mind.” Felix nodded and turned to watch where they were walking again, leaving her to her spiraling thoughts.

When they walked into the dining hall, she immediately spotted Balthus, Constance, Mercedes, and Annette as they were dining together. She hadn’t had many opportunities to talk to Constance as of yet, primarily she had spoken to Yuri and Balthus more than the female Ashen Wolves, but things had been tense down there since the attack two weeks ago. Yuri was gone, supposedly following a lead on something he’d found in Maggie’s room, but she wasn’t sure if she truly believed that.

When she’d asked Balthus if Yuri was okay, the massive brawler had smiled sadly and responded, “Sometimes he does this, ya know? Just drops off the face of the earth for a minute and then comes back like nothing ever happened a few weeks later… I’m sure he’s fine.

She really hoped that was true.

Mercedes waved her over with a graceful smile and she looked to Felix, who nodded and followed her over. Mercedes greeted them with a kind, “Good morning, Professor. Felix. How are you two doing this morning?”

“Oh, Byleth just about gave us a heart attack this morning,” Balthus chuckled. “I woke up to Felix here knocking on the door, only to find she wasn’t even in her room anymore.” He pointed in Felix’s direction as he chortled, “This guy was _freaking out_!”

Felix grumpily crossed his arms and hissed, “You were sleeping when you were supposed to be watching her.”

She lightly touched his arm as she interjected. “It’s over. It’s done. I’m fine. I just went for a morning walk.”

“Why don’t you sit with us?” Annette chirped with a bright smile, obviously trying to provide a distraction. “Mercie made those sugar cookies you like so much! I know it’s kinda early, but it’s never too early for sweets, right?” 

The mention of sweets had her mouth watering, but before she could say anything, Shamir came bursting into the dining hall, closely followed by Catherine and Caspar. “There you are,” Shamir curtly greeted with a nod of her head to those at the table, “An Imperial battalion has been spotted approaching the monastery.” 

“How far away are they?” she asked, immediately on edge.

“They must have used magic to get past the scouts. They are close… too close.” She cursed under her breath and Shamir shook her head. “It gets worse,” the sniper stated in her same cool tone. “The soldier that initially spotted them reported that the battalion is being led by the Death Knight.” Felix stiffened beside her and took a sharp inhale. The Death Knight wasn’t in the same league as the common rabble. She could still remember Jeralt getting wounded before she could step in and face the Death Knight herself. This would be a difficult fight.

“The Death Knight,” Mercedes breathed, her face going slightly pale as she grasped the edge of the table.

“What’s wrong, Mercie?” Annette fretted, scooting over to grab her friend’s arm.

Balthus nodded with his eyebrows furrowed in concern. “Yeah, you don’t look so good, pal.”

“Oh,” Mercedes chuckled breathlessly, “It’s nothing… now’s probably not the time… I was just thinking about my brother.”

Constance perked up and prodded, “You were thinking of Emile?”

“Your brother?” Caspar asked, looking obviously confused, “You have a brother?”

Mercedes nodded, and her face slowly started to regain color as she composed herself. “Yes, but we have different fathers. He was a year younger than me.”

Caspar rubbed the back of his neck as he asked, “Why’d he suddenly come to mind?” before Shamir sharply cut in, “Story time is great and all, but now is hardly the time. I need to know what you would like us to do.” Sharp eyes settled on her as Shamir waited for instruction. Catherine nodded from behind her, a hand already gripping the pommel of Thunderbrand at her side.

“Lady Byleth!” They all turned as a panting scout rushed into the dining hall. “I have a report! The Death Knight has been spotted in the Sealed Forest! He only has a few troops with him, so we could take him out with a battalion of the knights if you’d issue the—”

“This can’t be a coincidence,” Shamir interrupted with a shake of her head, just as Felix cursed under his breath, “Why the Sealed Forest? They may be luring you out, just like they did the last time.”

The sound of wood scraping against stone pulled her attention back to the table as Mercedes quickly stood and made for the door. When their shouts of protest reached her ears, the healer called over her shoulder, “I have to go! I have to go see him!”

Catherine incredulously asked, “What in the world does she think she is—" 

“I’ll go after her, Professor!” Caspar shouted with an enthusiastic pump of his fist. “You can count on me!” Before she could say a word otherwise, he was running after Mercedes and they were both out of sight. 

Everyone gaped for a moment until Shamir cleared her throat and sharply asked, “What’s the plan?”

She stared unseeing into the distance as she started formulating a plan in her head. “If it’s a trap, it’s better to play this safe. All available former students should report to the stables immediately, as well as Shamir and Catherine. Constance, you can stay here, but Balthus, you grab Hapi.” The brawler nodded and ran off with a boisterous, _“You got it, Boss!”_

“Catherine, please inform Seteth of the situation before reporting to the stables.” The holy knight turned on her heel and ran off in the direction of the second floor.

Annette scrambled to her feet and called, “I’ll grab His Highness, my father, and Ingrid. They are probably in the Cathedral.” Without another word she ran out the door, tripping on a crate of food supplies as she went.

She was turning to head to her room so she could change into her armor with Shamir and Felix at her side, when Constance called out, “Wait! Byleth, I must go with you.” She turned to look at the young blonde who pleaded, “Please, I must go with you. Mercedes was speaking of Emile!”

“And?” Shamir asked, raising an eyebrow.

Constance looked a bit disgruntled by Shamir’s intrusion, but she quickly pulled herself together and explained, “She would not bring up Emile without reason. I am deeply worried for my dear friend. Please allow me to accompany you.”

She held Constance’s gaze as she carefully explained, “We will be in the Sealed Forest, but you may still be exposed to sunlight.” The mage had specifically asked that she not be called upon unless it was urgent if fighting was to take place during the day. The difference in the talented mage’s countenance had been startling when she had first witnessed it, but Yuri had been quick to explain that Constance’s “condition” was the reason she lived in Abyss—well, that and the fall of her noble house.

“I shall bear it if it secures Mercedes safety,” she vowed with an unusually stern expression.

“Alright,” she sighed. “Hurry and prepare to meet us at the stables. We need to leave as soon as possible.” The young mage ran off toward Abyss, and Byleth silently sent a prayer to Sothis that Mercedes and Caspar were alright as she ran to prepare everything.

“I don’t like this,” Felix quietly growled as they finally entered the Sealed Forest. The two of them were on foot, while those that were of a cavalry class fought to ride their horses through the dense brush. Constance had begrudgingly left her dark pegasus behind, and was clutching Hapi’s waist as the two mages attempted to ride through the darker patches of trees to help Constance maintain her composure. Dimitri was just ahead of them with Gilbert trying to keep up with the prince on his horse. Dimitri had been rather chaotic since he was informed of the Death Knight’s location, but thankfully Gilbert had been able to stop him from leaving that very instant to tear into the enemy soldiers. 

“You don’t like anything,” Sylvain teased, though his tone rang hollow. She could tell they were both on edge being back in these woods, and she couldn’t say she was feeling any differently. She hadn’t been back here since her fight with Kronya and Solon—the day that she merged with Sothis and became… what she was now. Nabatean. _Different_. To say she wasn’t fond of this forest would be a vast understatement. Just thinking of the darkness of Zahras sent a shudder through her body, earning a look of concern from Felix. She nodded, trying to convey that she was fine as she pushed the memories away. There was no time to deal with that now.

Shamir came back toward them and quietly reported, “The Death Knight is at the top of the ridge, overseeing a small group of masked mages, as well as a battalion of foot soldiers. They seem to be… waiting.” 

She cursed under her breath. “You were right,” she sighed, “it’s definitely a trap.”

A scream of “Emile!” had her head, as well as the people around her, whipping to look further down the path. Constance nudged Hapi’s horse, and the two young women barreled toward the sound of Mercede’s shout. Balthus cursed loudly and took off at a run to go after them.

“There goes the element of surprise,” Shamir grumbled.

“Circle around through the trees,” she ordered the sniper. “See if you can get a good angle on the Death Knight. Use your discretion.” Shamir nodded and took off to the left as she and the remaining soldiers rushed down the pathway after the others.

She heard Caspar shout, “I’m here now, so you can give up, Death Knight!” She bit back another curse in favor of picking up speed, trying to keep up with Dimitri and Gilbert as they went roaring out into the clearing. The Death Knight was in the same place Kronya had been, fighting with Caspar as Mercedes stood off to the side, obviously trying to talk to the Death Knight.

“What the hell is she doing?!” Felix angrily shouted as he tried to keep up with her. Sylvain had pulled ahead on his horse, and he was already contending with a group of enemies alongside Dimitri and Gilbert.

“I think the Death Knight might be her brother,” she called back, raising her hand to cast an Bolganone spell on a group of masked mages in the center of the large stone plaza that took up the center of the clearing. 

He shouted, “I don’t get it! I thought the Death Knight was Jeritza?!” as he clashed swords with an Imperial swordsman. He used the Aegis Shield to bash at the Imperial soldier’s head, and when the soldier stumbled back, she finished him off with her blade.

“I don’t know,” she yelled back, “but I have to get up there. I don’t like Caspar’s chances!” The blue-haired fighter’s shoulder glowed with a Physic spell as he rushed in for another attack. Mercedes seemed to have a near constant flow of healing magic funneling toward him as Hapi and Constance swerved through the ongoing battle to try and reach them. Balthus was trying to cover their flank as they recklessly charged forward. 

They were _really_ going to have a talk about waiting for orders when this nightmare was finished.

Grim determination settled over Felix’s features as he cut down another Imperial soldier and yelled, “Well, let’s go then!” 

Agonized screams filled the air, seemingly in sync with one another. Byleth frantically checked on each of her former students, worried that one of them had been terribly injured, and watched as Ingrid frantically scrambled back from a foot soldier. He was clutching at his head as a point on his forehead began to glow bright red, as though something was embedded in his skin. Without warning, his body began to change. He screamed in agony as his armor burst from his growing body, and his limbs shifted and formed black scales. Felix cursed and instinctively stepped closer to her, and she followed his line of sight to see a heavily armored knight going through the same transformation on her left.

There were four in all, and it seemed like the terrifying process took an eternity, though in reality it was only seconds before the agony-filled screams turned into the roars of the contorted demonic beasts that they had faced the day her father died, and so many battles after that.   
  
Before she ran toward Mercedes and Caspar, she quickly ordered, “Sylvain stay with Annette. Ashe and Ingrid—you two together. Dorothea and Bernadetta, provide cover fire for Catherine. Use Relics on the Demonic Beasts, while the others keep the soldiers at bay. Watch out for the dark mages, we don’t know what they are planning!” She didn’t bother trying to call orders to Dimitri, he and Gilbert were already far past where her voice would reach, going after a demonic beast that had transformed further down the field with Areadbhar in hand.

She internally cursed herself for leaving the Sword of the Creator in her room. The Sword of Moralta was a fine blade, and did the job as she cut down an enemy cavalry unit, but she knew it was a foolish call. It would be hard to adjust, but the Sword of the Creator was too valuable a weapon not to be put to use. She would have to pray that Sothis would forgive her.

_Ha. Irony._

The calls of affirmatives rang out behind her as she trailed after Felix, who had the Aegis Shield held high as he charged into the fray. Dimitri let out a chilling battle cry before the dying roar of a demonic beast sounded out off to their right. Gilbert cut down an enemy mage who had dark magic gathering in his palms, only to be struck by a hand axe to the shoulder. Dimitri snarled in his rage and charged at the heavily armored soldier who had foolishly targeted Gilbert, plunging Areadbhar through the weak chink in his shoulder armor before kicking him to the ground. 

“I have to get to Gilbert!” she cried, hoping to get Felix’s attention. He nodded and swerved toward the Great Knight, who was still fighting even as blood ran down his heavily armored arm. 

Without warning, flashes of pink light appeared around them, and Felix backed up toward her as several masked mages warped in, completely surrounding them. A deep voice called, “Take the Fell Star alive. Kill the other pests.”

“Over my dead body,” Felix snarled, launching a Thoron spell toward the mage that had called the order. 

The mage leapt out of the way before sneering, “As you wish, _dog_.” On instinct she flicked her arm as she always did to change the Sword of the Creator into a whip, only to remember her mistake.

 _Foolish_.

Gilbert desperately called out, “Your Grace!” She heard Dimitri yell something, but she couldn’t make out what it was because at the same moment a Miasma spell struck her in the shoulder. She hissed through the burning sensation of the magic burning her skin, trying to focus as she frantically looked around at the spell sigils that were forming around them. Felix shouted a string of curses, stepping behind her to guard her flank as all of the nearby soldiers seemed to converge on their location. She cursed herself for being so foolish. This whole thing had been an attempt to capture her, and she’d fallen for it… AGAIN. Dimitri ripped through the incoming forces, cutting a bloody path towards them as Gilbert followed behind, picking off those that were missed by the deathly determined prince. 

It wasn’t going to be enough. She had to do something. Why didn’t she bring the Sword of the Creator? She had to do something or she was going to watch Felix die at the hands of the same monsters that killed Linhardt. The same monsters that killed her father, Glenn, King Lambert, and all of those people in Remire.

No. She wouldn’t allow it. Not this time.

She felt a terrifying rage churn in her chest as she let out a cry of fury, and a sudden flow of power in her chest pushed outward, creating a magical barrier around herself and Felix, which deflected the dark magic spells that had been cast toward them. At her lifted hand, her Crest glowed brightly in front of her as three Aura spells went off in quick succession around her magical barrier. She watched as the enemy mage’s were swallowed in the light of the powerful faith spells, and then released the power with a shuddering exhale. When she glanced down, the flesh of her shoulder where she'd been hit by that spell had been healed.

“What the fuck was that?” Felix murmured, sounding breathless and confused. She wavered on her feet, the drain in her magic reserves readily apparent. But whatever it was had made the forces approaching them far more manageable. Felix is safe… for now. A powerful Excalibur spell ripped through one of the approaching swordsmen, and when she turned, she saw that Annette had climbed up on Sylvain’s horse and they were riding towards them, having taken out the demonic beast and the few soldiers where they had entered the clearing. At Sylvain’s raised hand, a Sagittea spell flew past them, impaling one of the surviving mages. 

More help had arrived.

Noticing they had a brief respite, she turned to check on the rest of her soldiers. Ingrid ran behind Ashe, Luin glowing in her hand as she cut down a mage that had two arrows protruding from his shoulder—courtesy of the silver-haired archer. Hapi, Constance, and Balthus had reached Caspar and Mercedes, and were thankfully helping against the reinforcements that had appeared up on the ridge at some point. Dorothea, Bernadetta, and Catherine were clearing out the last of the enemies behind them, so everything looked like it was going smoothly for a moment.

Notably, the Death Knight was nowhere to be seen. She wondered whether that was a good sign, or a terrible one, as Sylvain rode up beside her. “What the hell was that?!” He was staring at her wide eyed, and she realized that Annette and Felix’s expressions matched his.

Gilbert called out, "Your Grace, are you alright?" as he and Dimitri approached. Dimitri's face bore a scowl as he wiped Areadbhar off on a fallen soldier's pants.

“I don’t know what that was, but I'm fine and we’ll think about it later. Help the others finish down here. Felix and I are going to charge forward to check on Mercedes and Caspar.”

“You got it,” Sylvain saluted, though his eyes still held a sense of unease that she couldn’t look at for too long without feeling guilt burn in her gut. She hated when Sylvain worried about her. Annette hopped off of Sylvain's horse, determination in her features as she ran toward Dimitri and cast a Recover spell, patching up a nasty gash in his arm.

He growled, “Wasted effort,” before stalking off toward a group of remaining Imperial forces on their left. Annette cast another on Gilbert’s injured shoulder, and he sent a sorrowful glance toward his daughter before riding after his prince. She patted Annette on the back, surreptitiously checking her for injuries, before trying her best to give her an encouraging smile. It must have worked, because Annette smiled back before turning her attention back to the battlefield.

She lightly touched Felix’s arm, before saying, “Let’s go.”

Having taken out the ambush effort, cutting their way toward Mercedes and the others was significantly easier. She and Felix were unstoppable as they made their way through, and she noticed Shamir come out of the trees as they approached. “The Dark Knight is waiting about fifty yards through those trees.” 

Mercedes tone was riddled with hope as she asked, “He’s still here?” Shamir nodded in confirmation, and the young priestess immediately took off in the direction Shamir had pointed in. Constance and Caspar trailed after, hollering her name. 

“I’ll go with them, while you all stay here to help the others wrap up.” Felix made a sound of discontent and she nodded, “You can come.” She knew it would be a fight if she didn’t allow it, and she wasn’t capable of having that fight right now.

They ran through the trees, following the sounds of Caspar and Constance’s calls. When she and Felix reached the others, Felix moved slightly in front of her in defense, Aegis Shield— _the bones of one of Sothis’ children_ —held high. Mercedes stood in front of the Death Knight, mounted on his black war horse. The same distorted voice from the tunnels under the monastery the day they rescued Flayn called, “You came…” Felix tensed up as the Death Knight stared directly at Mercedes.

From behind, she couldn’t see Mercedes face. However, she could hear the usual cadence of her voice as the young healer asked the Death Knight, “How long has it been since we last spoke?” Her head bowed as she continued, “I’m so sorry… I should have come sooner… I’m sure it wasn’t pleasant living in House Bartels.”

Caspar awkwardly called, “I’m not sure I understand. Do you know this guy, Mercedes?”

Constance, affected by the sunshine streaming through the gap in the trees canopy, moved slowly to Mercedes side as she asked in a quivering voice, “Could it truly be him… Is it truly you, Emile?” 

The Death Knight’s deep voice rumbled, “Constance… how can that…?” He shook his head sharply, and deep grunt echoed through the air. A physic spell lit up near the enemy knight’s torso when Mercedes raised a now trembling hand, but it cut off when the Death Knight sharply called, “Enough!”

Caspar walked over to stand near Mercedes defensively as he called, “That’s how you are going to treat her? Your sister? After not seeing her for years? She’s trying to help you! It’s certainly more than you deserve!”

The Death Knight didn’t bother responding to Caspar, instead looking to Constance and Mercedes as he said, “Constance… Mercedes… Leave the monastery.” Mercedes shook her head firmly, stepping slightly away from Caspar. “You will die…”

“Even if I die, I’ve made my choice,” was Mercedes soft answer, her voice strained with emotion. “Please, Emile. Fight on our side, instead.”

She thought the Death Knight—or Emile, or whatever he went by—almost sounded sad as he responded, “I cannot. My soul has long departed… And yet…” He moved his hand to a saddle bag, and Byleth held out her sword as she stepped forward, ignoring Felix’s protests. The Death Knight’s eyes seemed to rest on her as he threw a small satchel at the ground near Mercedes feet. “Take this and go,” he rumbled.

Mercedes picked up the satchel, opening it to find a necklace of some sort. When she picked it up, the stone in the center glowed. “Is this… a Relic? We must share the same Crest, then.”

“When next we meet, I will kill you without hesitation,” Mercedes’ brother responded. She stepped in front of Mercedes, ignoring the hand the healer placed on her shoulder.

“You’ll have to get through me first,” she growled threateningly. She would hate to kill Mercedes’ brother right in front of her, but she wouldn’t risk her safety.

Something that sounded hauntingly like a pleased hum rippled through the air. “It… pleases me… that you have survived. Perhaps I shall die by your blade, or you shall die by mine. I look forward to our dance of damnation.” 

“Emile… please!” Mercedes pleaded, trying to walk around her, but she was stopped by Byleth’s outstretched arm.

“I knew they were foolish to think they could capture you,” the Death Knight rumbled, ignoring his sister’s pleas. “However, my task is now finished.” The red eyes of the Death Knight’s mask seemed to pierce straight through her as he said, “I will be the one to kill her. Until then, she must live…” It sounded oddly like a request. 

The pinkish light of a warp spell flashed, and the Death Knight and his horse were gone.

“Emile!” She allowed Mercedes to run forward, and the healer ran toward the spot where her brother had just vanished. She started to cry as she whimpered, “I can’t believe he’s gone again…”  
She sheathed her sword and stepped forward to pull Mercedes into an embrace. The young priestess was shaking as she cried into her shoulder, and she held her still as something within her seemed to break. Mercedes had always been a source of strength for the Lions, and for herself. To think that she was carrying the burden of this without her knowing was heartbreaking.

Caspar softly said, “I can’t tell whether or not he actually cares that you’re his sister…”

She was slightly surprised when Constance walked up to place a comforting hand on Mercedes back as she murmured, “Somewhere beneath that helmet is a boy who loves ice cream and kittens. He was always so sweet when we were young. I do not know how he became… whatever he is now.”

“That doesn’t make any sense!” Caspar cried out in his frustration. “How does a sweet boy enjoy the prospect of a ‘dance of damnation’, let alone threaten to kill his own sister?!” Felix walked up to place a hand on his shoulder, and when Caspar looked to him, he shook his head slowly. Caspar deflated then, his shoulders drooping as he let out a woeful sigh and stared at a still crying Mercedes.

“Living at House Bartels changed him,” Mercedes quietly sniffled. “And it’s all my fault. I abandoned him, and left him there with his terrible father. It’s my fault that he’s turned into this.” Byleth clutched her former student even tighter as her vision blurred with tears. She shut her eyes, and Dimitri’s face when she first met him in the Goddess Tower flashed before her. 

“You were merely a child when you left House Bartels,” Constance gently soothed with a shake of her head. “Surely there was little you could have done in your circumstances.” 

Mercedes straightened, and began wiping the tears from her cheeks as she tried to pull herself together. “I’m not sure that’s true… but I suppose there’s nothing I can do now but pray for him.” A weak smile graced her lovely features as she turned to face Caspar. “Thank you, Caspar. I couldn’t have confronted him without you.”

“Don’t worry about it,” the blue-haired brawler assured with a cheerful pump of his fist. “I may not understand you half the time, but we’re still pals.”

Mercedes chuckled softly, her sad smile becoming a little wider. “Come on then, pal. Let’s get back to everyone else.” She linked her arm with Constance and waved her hand back toward the group. Caspar beamed at her before walking back with a triumphant shout. 

Felix was watching her with his arms crossed firmly over his chest when she finally turned around. When she met his gaze he immediately insisted, “We need to have more people with you in battle.” He took hold of her arm moved the burnt sleeve of her coat to check her injury, only to furrow his brow in confusion when he found healed flesh. When he was satisfied she wasn't injured he began pulling her gently back toward the group. “If they were trying to capture you today, who knows what Edelgard will order them to do next?”

“I don’t even know if it was Edelgard,” she countered. “They called me Fell Star. That’s what Solon called me the last time we were here.” It’s what Those Who Slither in the Dark called her. But why did they want to capture her now? Surely, they could have used Maggie for such a thing before? None of it made any sense.

She was pulled from her thoughts when Felix groused, “Don’t remind me.” They continued walking, with him still holding her arm. “What happened? What was that back there?”

“I…I don’t know.” She glanced down at her trembling hands, before actively clenching them to stop the tremors. “But it kept you safe, and that’s all that matters.” Felix reached out and covered her fist with his hand, but she carefully pulled away. She pretended she didn’t see the pang of hurt in his eyes.

They walked in silence until they reached the break in the trees where everyone was waiting. Felix stepped out, and immediately walked over to Sylvain, who seemed to be waiting for them. The redhead sighed in relief as a beautiful smile spread over his features. “I was just about to go in after you both,” he joked. She was sure he was serious.

“We’re fine,” she assured with a forced smile of her own. She scanned the rest of their group, finding that many had been injured somewhat, but honed in on Mercedes attempting to heal a nasty gash in Ingrid’s side with Dimitri scowling off to the side, watching them. She walked over and placed a hand on the pale priestess’ shoulder. “I’ll take over. You should try to rest. You’ve used a lot of magic.”

Mercedes nodded as she wiped at her ashen forehead, looking thoroughly exhausted. She called to Sylvain, “Will you let Mercedes ride with you? She was keeping Caspar going against the Death Knight, so I think it’s best if she doesn’t exert herself on her way back.”

“Of course,” Sylvain cooed as he held out a hand out to Mercedes. “Anything for the lovely Mercedes.” Felix rolled his eyes, but didn’t seem outwardly upset. Perhaps they had told the others of their relationship? She hadn’t really clarified who knew and who didn’t. Either way, she pushed the thought aside as she knelt down beside Ingrid and cast a Recover spell, holding it until the gash in the pegasus knight’s side healed enough to where they could get her back to the monastery without worry. 

Ingrid weakly huffed, “I’m rusty on the ground.” Her face was pale from the blood loss, but with enough rest and another round of healing she would likely be fine.

“Good thing I need you in the skies,” she assured with a nod of her head. Ingrid nodded as the side of her lip twitched up in a tired smile. She bent down to gently pick up the pegasus knight as she said, “Let’s get you back to your pegasus, shall we?”

They arrived back to the monastery proper to find Rodrigue and Seteth waiting at the gates. The stern grimace on Seteth’s face told her she was in for an earful as she dismounted from her horse and handed the reins to a knight who approached to assist her. Rodrigue at least greeted her with a kind smile and a jovial, “I assume the enemy has been routed, then?” Blue eyes tracked down to the sword on her hip before quickly coming back up to her face.

Felix walked up to stand at her side as he harshly reported, “The whole thing was a ruse for Byleth’s capture.”

Both of the older gentlemen’s eyes blew wide, and she nodded as she quietly added, “The mage that ordered my capture called me Fell Star.” Seteth’s features became grim, and his mouth set in a firm line. They hadn’t spoken privately since their last conversation, but she wasn’t quite ready to speak with him about it yet.

“We retrieved a Relic, though!” Caspar hollered with a joyful pump of his fist.

“A Relic?” Seteth’s eyes scanned the incoming soldiers until Mercedes dismounted from Sylvain’s horse to show the glowing necklace that was hanging from her neck.

“The Death Knight… He is… he is actually my brother, Emile,” the healer softly explained, bowing her head and clasping her hands in front of her heart, “Please forgive me. I know that he caused you and your sister unimaginable grief, and had I—”

“That is hardly necessary,” Seteth gently interrupted while stepping forward to place a kind hand on her shoulder. “I could not blame you for the actions of another, even if he is family. I would like to speak more of this, though for now I must speak of other important matters with Lady Byleth.” 

“Of course,” Mercedes nodded her head.

“Go and get some rest, Mercedes,” she suggested, though she hoped the healer would hear the command in her tone. “You’ve had a long day.”

Annette ran up and looped her arm through the older woman’s, a forced cheerful smile on her face. “Let’s go to the baths, Mercie! Maybe afterward we can have some more of those cookies you baked and relax.” Byleth mouthed a silent ‘ _thank you_ ’ to the redheaded mage as the two walked off.

Seteth informed her, “The messengers have returned. They are waiting for you in the Cardinal Room,” as soon as the others were gone. She let out a sigh of relief that had Rodrigue chuckling good-naturedly at her.

“You look relieved,” he commented with a warm smile.

“I was beginning to worry that they hadn’t made it to Claude,” she admitted as she pushed the hair out of her eyes. 

Her hair was starting to get ridiculously long, at least by her standards. It was nearly reaching the middle of her back at this point, and her bangs were a sloppy mess from her frequent efforts with her dagger. Her father had been the last to cut her hair, before they had even come to the monastery. Sadly, she found that every time she considered asking someone to do it for her, she couldn’t follow through.

Felix clicked his tongue in an irritated manner and searched his pockets, procuring a hair tie, which he then pushed into her hand. She cast him a grateful smile and pulled her hair into what was probably a sorry excuse for a ponytail if Felix’s rolled eyes were anything to go by. Normally he’d do it himself, but she suspected his father’s presence held him back. Though, Rodrigue was still looking between them in amusement, so she wondered if maybe she could just ask the swordsman to do it anyway. 

_No. Stop it._

Seteth asked, “Shall we head to the Cardinal Room now?” She nodded, and followed the two older gentlemen as they led the way toward the second floor. 

She glanced into the infirmary as they passed, nodding to Sylvain who had carried a protesting Ingrid up as soon as they had arrived. She told Felix, “You can stay here with them, if you’d like.” He grunted as he shook his head, so she shrugged and continued following Rodrigue and Seteth. She hated that she could feel amber eyes watching her every move, it was enough to make her skin feel far too warm for comfort.

Seteth nodded to the knights that had been posted outside the Cardinal room, and then turned his face toward her as he opened the door. She was questioning why he was smiling like that as she walked in, only to find a very pleasant surprise waiting for her.

“Raphael?! Ignatz?!” Before she could even take a breath, a giant teddy bear made out of sunshine ran toward her and engulfed her in the biggest hug, going so far as to twirl her around like a ragdoll as his deep laughter echoed throughout the stone room. “What are you guys doing here?!”

Her head was still spinning a little as Raphael set her back on the ground and enthusiastically shouted, “What are we doing here?! We came to help, Professor!” 

She threw herself into Ignatz’s chest, and the artistically blessed archer chuckled nervously as he returned her embrace. “Claude asked if we would like to come and help you, and we agreed. The others wanted to come as well, but their parents are part of the Roundtable, so Claude asked them to stay and help convince their parents to vote in your favor.”

“Ignatz and I don’t have fancy parents, so we figured we’d lend you our fists instead!” Raphael paused for a moment before amending, “Well, you can have my fists. Ignatz has his bow, though!”

She shook her head as a genuine laugh bubbled from her chest. “I can’t tell you what a relief it is to see you both.”

Ignatz flushed slightly as he stammered, “H-Honestly, Professor… it’s nothing compared to seeing you again. The Deer were so happy to hear you were alive and well.” 

Leonie walked over to sling an arm over Ignatz’s shoulder as she crowed, “So, do you like your surprise?!” 

“I love it. Thank you for coming… both of you.” She smiled widely as Raphael pulled all three of them into a weird but satisfying group hug. 

Seteth awkwardly cleared his throat and said, “I am deeply sorry to interrupt your reunion, Lady Byleth, but there is still the matter of Duke Riegan’s response.” 

“Right.” She cleared her throat and wiped her face, clearing the misting of happy tears from her eyes and crossed her hands behind her back as she screwed her features into something that was carefully neutral once more. “Why don’t you all get cleaned up and get settled into your old rooms. Perhaps you guys would like to have dinner with me this evening so we can catch up? I’d love to hear what you have been up to.”

“For sure!” Raphael pumped his fist. “And don’t forget training, Professor! I gotta show you how strong I’ve gotten!”

“I’d love nothing more.” She smiled to each of the three former Deerlings as they made their way out the door and then released a heavy exhale.

Rodrigue chuckled quietly before commenting, “You were quite the beloved professor, weren’t you?”

“One of the best in recent history,” Seteth answered as he moved toward the head of the table. “Though I would prefer it if Manuela or Hanneman never heard that I said such a thing.” Felix rolled his eyes and posted himself in front of the door with a hand on the hilt of his sword. 

She quietly mumbled, “Ironic that you would say such a thing,” as she walked forward to take the letter from Seteth’s outstretched hand. She pointedly looked only at the letter in her hand as she broke the seal and read:

_**My dearest Teach,** _

_**I’ve already begun setting your plan in motion. Taking into account that it should take you about two days to march to the Bridge from your current position at the monastery, I’m planning on marching my own forces on the 30th of the Lone Moon. Our ‘training exercise’ will approach Gloucester territory with all of the bells and whistles ringing to try and draw their attention.** _

_**Sorry for the delay in sending Leonie back, but I thought you guys could use some extra company. Ignatz is one of my best snipers, and you know how much Raph can take. Having them should be valuable, but I admit there’s a bit of an ulterior motive in sending them. I’ve just received word from one of my spies on the bridge. There are two generals posted there, General Ladislava and—the far more familiar face—General Ferdinand von Aegir. I’m willing to bet her Royalness is preparing for your advance if she has two of her best generals manning the bridge. She’s going to try and stop you here, no matter what.** _

_**I’ll do my best to draw out Gloucester, but it will be your responsibility to handle von Aegir.** _

_**Another note. No one has received word from Lorenz in the past few months. One of my men spotted him on the bridge a few months ago, but that’s all I’ve heard. I’m hoping he’ll be part of the forces that I draw out, but… keep an eye out, will ya? I trust you to do your best with whatever happens, Teach.** _

_**When this is all finished, I’ll be waiting for you.** _

_**Claude von Riegan** _

She tried not to look too shaken up as she placed the letter down on the table in front of her, but she must have failed because Felix was looking at her in obvious concern.

She was thankful her voice remained steady as she informed the others in the room, “Two generals are manning the Bridge, General Ladislava, and General von Aegir.” Felix’s jaw tightened as his hands clenched at his sides. “Claude will be moving his forces in two weeks’ time, so we must be prepared to march before then.”

Rodrigue put a hand to his chin as he commented, “We’ve already made a rough battle strategy for taking the bridge, but now we’ll need to take the two generals into account.” 

“Ferdinand is one of my former students. If I can get to him—”

“We cannot risk having you charge ahead like that,” Seteth immediately cut her off.

Through gritted teeth she countered, “If I can speak with him, perhaps I can get him to surrender.”

Rodrigue asked, “Do you truly think he would do such a thing?” There was no malice in the question, only genuine curiosity.

“If I take Dorothea and Bernadetta with me, perhaps they can help me to persuade him.” She walked over to where they had been storing the various maps and schematics they had and pulled out the one for the Great Bridge of Myrddin. “We should keep a heavy backline, perhaps Sylvain and his battalion? And a heavily armored battalion with Raphael and Ignatz, just in case there are any surprise attacks from the Alliance side.” There was the worry of an appearance from Lorenz or other Gloucester troops, though she hoped that the noblest of nobles would march against Claude, just as much as Claude did. However, planning in case of an attack from the rear would be sound either way. She would be too far away if something happened.

“We’ll create a small strike force to charge ahead. Dimitri will do so no matter what I order, so we’ll include Ingrid and Gilbert to watch his back. Dorothea can ride with Bernadetta, and Felix and I can do our best to keep up on foot.” She nibbled her lower lip for a moment as she looked over the schematics again. “Rodrigue, you’ll lead the remaining troops, and make sure any reinforcements are dealt with. Seteth, I’ll need you to prepare a supply caravan to arrive a day after us, with enough troops to man the Bridge once we’ve successfully taken it.”

Rodrigue nodded slowly before asking, “Are you certain this plan will not bring unnecessary extra risk to yourself? Perhaps you should stay with the main body of troops?” 

“Of course, it brings unnecessary extra risk to her,” Felix moodily huffed. “It’s not like she’s going to do anything differently, though.”

She did her best not to sound indignant as she argued, “If we get Ferdinand to surrender, we spare countless lives. It is worth the extra risk.”

Seteth prodded, “What of the Empire’s attempt to capture you today? Can we be certain that another attempt will not be made at the Bridge?”

“Of course we can’t be certain. We’re at war, which means nothing is certain. I don’t even know why they want me in the first place, it seems far more convenient to just assassinate me and get it over with.” Felix made a noise that told her he wasn’t fond of her line of thinking, and Seteth put a hand to his forehead with a weary sigh. Rodrigue nodded in acknowledgement, though there was an obvious frown on his face.

She rolled up the schematics and walked over to put them back where they belonged. “I will speak with Dorothea and Bernadetta to confirm whether they are willing to be part of the strike force. If they are not, I will come up with another plan this evening.” She picked up Claude’s letter and folded it up. “We’ll hold war council tomorrow to announce that we will be marching from here in twelve days’ time. Until then, I have a few matters to attend to.” She looked to Rodrigue and Seteth to give them the opportunity to object, but neither seemed inclined to do so. “Have a good evening, then.” 

Rodrigue called to her back, “You as well, Byleth.”

As soon as the doors had shut behind them, Felix growled, “Would you stop speaking so nonchalantly about being assassinated?”

“If I was Hubert, that’s exactly what I would do. I’m not, so I won’t do anything like that, but it doesn’t change the fact that what I said was accurate.”

Felix wearily sighed, “You’re going to put me in an early grave, woman.”

“No one is putting you in an early grave as long as I’m alive. Do you understand? You’re going to survive this war, and then live a long happy life with the person of your choosing until you die of old age. I’ll accept nothing less.”

He grabbed her arm as she made her way down the stairs to the first floor and pulled her back to face him. “Are you going to tell me what the hell happened this afternoon?”

She continued her descent as she evenly answered, “You were right there beside me. You saw what happened.” 

His footsteps thudded right behind her own as he chased after her. “You know that’s not what I mean, Byleth. You’re being weird. In fact, you’ve been acting strangely all day!”

They walked out into the courtyard near the old Academy classrooms as she answered, “What can I say? I have a lot on my mind.”

He snapped, “Like what? I can’t help you if you won’t fucking let me!” 

Like what? _Like what?!_ Let’s see… she’d had a dream about her mother and father that morning, she was heading an entire rebellion force that was going to be actively marching into war on her command in twelve days’ time, she might have to kill one of her former students when she arrives on the bridge, because she’s sure as hell not making any of her other students do it. She recently found out that she’s not even human, and regularly thinks about the fact that she’s got Sothis’ heart buried in her chest while she’s battling with the decision to use the weapon that’s been crafted from her friend’s spine… And that’s not even mentioning the fact that she was fairly certain she was in love with Felix—a fact that she was actively not thinking about, at all, whatsoever!

“I need to find Bernadetta and Dorothea.”

He cut in front of her and crossed his arms. She imagined he was trying to look intimidating, though that tactic never particularly worked on her. He lowly asked, “I thought you said you were going to stop brushing me off?”

She held her hands out at her sides and sighed, “I don’t know what you want from me, Felix. I’m trying to go and talk to my students so I can find a way where I don’t have to kill their friend. We fought a battle today, where a group of enemy mages said they are trying to take me alive. I have a war to plan, soldiers to prepare for the coming march, not to mention my own training, and I’m…” She sighed again and then far more softly finished, “I don’t know what you want from me.” 

“I know what I want from you,” a familiar voice cooed flirtatiously from behind her. She turned to see Dorothea with an amused smirk on her lips as she glided down the path toward them. 

“Is everything okay?” She failed to keep the worry from her voice as she asked.

“Yes, yes,” Dorothea sighed with a wave of her hand, “I only mean that I want some time with my lovely former professor.”

“She wasn’t your professor,” Felix griped, his eyes narrowed and his arms still crossed. He was probably irritated at the interruption, but all she felt was relief.

Dorothea leaned over to whisper conspiratorially, “I must admit… I thought that being with Sylvain would help him loosen up a bit.” Felix made a disgruntled noise, and she could only hope that her chuckle didn’t sound as hollow as it felt.

“I was actually just looking for you and Bernadetta,” she interjected, hoping to change topics.

Dorothea looped an arm through hers and stepped close to her. “Oh? Is there something I can do to help?”

“I need to talk to you both.” She glanced to Felix as she said, “You can go get cleaned up. I have Dorothea with me.” Felix just scowled and stormed off, which she should be used to by now.

“Now what’s all that about?” Dorothea coaxed as they walked toward the training grounds.

She dryly joked, “If I’m guessing correctly, I think Felix would like to talk about feelings.”

Dorothea laughed brightly and tightened her hold on Byleth’s arm. “Dear me! Is he ill?”

“I can only assume.” She sighed heavily and some of the tension that she hadn’t even noticed in her shoulders, eased. “He’s taking this whole Sword and Shield thing far too seriously. He wants to be at my side at all times but I can’t,” her voice cracked unexpectedly with emotion, but she pushed through and hoped Dorothea wouldn’t notice, “have him around me all the time. I need room to _breathe_ every once and a while. But being acting archbishop in the middle of this war…” She groaned as she shook her head. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t be complaining to you about this. That’s not fair.”

“Are you kidding? I think everyone deserves to rant every once and a while, _especially_ you. You were always so busy taking care of everyone when we were attending school, and now you’re doing that for an entire army. It’s perfectly natural to feel stressed.” Dorothea hummed softly before suggesting, “Perhaps you could use some girl time?”

“…Girl time?”

She must have been making a face, because Dorothea laughed again, the lovely sound making her feel even more guilty for what she was about to speak with her about. “Yes, girl time. Why don’t we get a few of us together and relax tonight? Hm? You always have those boys hounding after you, whether it be Felix and Sylvain, or Seteth and Yuri. Why don’t we take a night and just chat?”

“That sounds nice, I just—”

“Come, come, Byleth. Surely you can take one night of relief?” 

“I wish that I could.” She worried at her lower lip as they stopped in front of Bernadetta’s door. “I’ll try to finish everything I need to, and see how it goes.” 

She raised her fist and knocked lightly, before almost immediately hearing Bernadetta’s timid, “Who is it?”

Dorothea sang, “It’s the Professor and Dorothea, Bern.” After a few hurried footsteps and a bit of jiggling of the door handle, the door swung open to reveal what looked to be a freshly bathed Bernadetta. “Is it okay if we come in, hun?” Bernadetta nodded and waved them in as she walked over to sit at her desk chair and comb through damp purple hair.

“I need to speak with you both. We’ve received word from Claude on the status of the bridge…” She paused and both young women turned to give her their undivided attention. “Claude’s spies say that Ferdinand is one of the generals assigned there.” Bernadetta began to tremble slightly as Dorothea let out a ragged sigh. “I want you both to know that I have every intention of pleading with him to surrender. In fact, it’s the reason I wanted to talk to you both. I was hoping you would participate in a small strike force that will charge ahead to try and persuade him. If he surrenders, we’ll prevent further loss of life.”

“I would really prefer running the other direction,” Dorothea tiredly chuckled, her eyes teary. 

Bernadetta nodded frantically in agreement before hesitantly asking, “What if… What if he doesn’t?”

She clenched her hands in her lap as she firmly assured them, “If it comes to that, I’ll be the one to face him. Don’t worry.”

“I don’t understand why he continues to fight for Edie in the first place,” Dorothea grumbled as frustration marred her lovely features. “He opposed her for so long. When we received her requests to join her side, he had an entire monologue about why war was terrible for the common-folk and how the ends couldn’t justify the means. It’s been five years of fighting and bloodshed…” She sighed wearily, and Byleth pulled her down so she could rest her head on her shoulder. “I had such high hopes for him, you know?”

“I know you did, but he might not even have a choice.”

Dorothea’s head shot off her shoulder as her jade-green eyes blew wide. “You think Edie might be forcing him to fight like she is with Pet?”

She shook her head slowly as she answered, “There’s no way to be certain until we speak with him. I’ll do everything I can to get him to surrender, but if it comes down to it, he knows I have to do whatever it takes to end the war. I told him as much.”

“I-Is it true?” Bernadetta stammered, “That those mages were there to try and capture you today? I heard Sylvain and Mercedes talking about it on the way back to the monastery.”

“It’s true,” she sighed. “I hate to ask… but… Can you think of any reason why? Other than the obvious reasons, of course.”

Dorothea wryly joked, “I suppose that depends on what you think the obvious reasons are.” She flipped her hair over her shoulder and glanced off to the side as she stated, “Edie might have thought she was subtle, but she wasn’t.”

“What do you mean?”

“Edie was a bit obsessed with you, Professor.” She giggled pleasantly and purred, “Well, a lot of us were, but especially Edie. Didn’t you notice? She attended every seminar you gave, always tried to find excuses to speak with you, constantly whined that you should have been the one to teach the Black Eagles…?” 

She glanced to Bernadetta, who flushed as she stammered, “I-I saw her drawing a picture of you once.”

She shifted uncomfortably before admitting, “I didn’t know… I’m not the best with those things.”

Dorothea sighed in a put-upon manner and patted her hand. “We’ll have to work on that, darling. Either way, I have no doubt she was looking for you just as much as Claude was while you were sleeping all of those years. Whether she’d go so far as to abduct you for that reason, I can’t say, but you are a terribly valuable asset either way. We’ve all seen what you can do, including today. She may just be trying to sway you to her side.”

“She tried to get me to join her in the Holy Tomb, but she’s siding with the people who killed my father, caused the Tragedy of Duscur, and the chaos that happened in Remire. I don’t care what her goals are, I don’t understand how she could do that. I knew she was ambitious to a fault, but this?!”

“I know,” Dorothea soothed as she rubbed her back consolingly.

She dropped her head to her hands as she sighed, “I taught her every tactic she’s using to wage this bloody war. Now it’s my responsibility to put an end to it.”

Bernadetta came to sit on her other side and rested a hand on her back. “We’ll be here to help, Professor. Whatever you need.”

Dorothea nodded. “Yes. We’ll be part of your strike force when we take the Great Bridge of Myrddin. We’ll help you get Ferdie to surrender.”

She sat up straight and shook off her dreary thoughts. “I’m sorry. I was coming here to try and make sure you guys were going to be alright with this, not to complain.”

“What did I just say a few minutes ago?” Dorothea gently chided with a soft smile. “We’re here to listen if you need it, Byleth. Someone has to support you, as well.”

She wasn’t sure why those words made her feel so emotional, but she didn’t feel the need to analyze it right now. She pulled Dorothea into a hug and said, “I’d love to have a few of the girls come by tonight. We can get together in my room after dinner?”

Dorothea smiled brightly when they pulled back and clasped her hands in excitement as she cheered, “Sounds great! I’ll get everything ready.”

“For now, I’m going to go and see to some former Deerlings.” She pulled Bernadetta into a quick hug before standing and walking out of the room. As she headed toward the dining hall, she took a few deep breaths and tried to let the rest of the day go. Bernadetta and Dorothea were going to be there to help her with Ferdinand, and they would have the next week or so to configure the formations for the upcoming battle. Just for this evening, she would focus on her former students, and herself.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Me, sitting bolt upright in my bed at 3 o'clock in the morning with a very inconveniently timed inspirational moment: "What if Byleth had a vision of Sitri and Jeralt and it taught her what love felt like?!
> 
> Also me: *crying as I type in my bed at 3'oclock in the morning when I really should be sleeping* 
> 
> I'm making "Sothis Shield" more literal than it is in the game. Also, I really wanted to write out the dinner with Ignatz and Raphael and the girl's night, but this chapter was already so freaking long. Sorry!


	28. When You Love Somebody and Bite Your Tongue, All You Get Is a Mouthful of Blood

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Chapter Title pulled from "When U Love Somebody" by the Fruit Bats
> 
> The Great Bridge Coup includes some happy surprises.... and some not so happy surprises.

~Sylvain~

He and Annette witnessed Byleth’s display of power in the Sealed Forest, and they could both feel the intensity of the Aura spells that Byleth cast. Annette murmured something about how three in that quick of a succession (not to mention with that level of power behind them) should be impossible, as he tried to focus on getting them over there as quickly as possible through the feeling of his heart threatening to burst out of his chest. Watching Felix and Byleth become surrounded was absolutely _terrifying_. 

He had also never seen her conjure a barrier spell like that before. He wasn’t even aware she knew _how_. It was confusing and frightening to think about. Was she gaining new powers alongside experiencing more of Sothis’ memories? What did that mean for her? What else was she capable of? Why wasn’t she talking to anybody about it? 

It was obvious what the Death Knight luring them out to the Sealed Forest had been about—he’d known as soon as he caught a glimpse of those mages warping in to ambush Felix and Byleth. This mysterious group was after Byleth now. The real question was… why? He’d attempted to start a conversation about it the next day, but she gave a hurried excuse and slipped away into another meeting with Seteth and Rodrigue. He supposed it could wait. She was under a lot of pressure with the upcoming march, and with Dimitri’s manic episodes of demanding they march immediately so he could have Edelgard’s head—as if there wasn’t a bridge, an impregnable fortress, and half a continent’s worth of soldiers that were standing between them and the emperor. 

Starting the day after the incident, Byleth was constantly surrounded by people. Seteth and Alois got together and set up a guard rotation for guarding the Cardinal Room, the base of the staircase that led to the third floor, her bedroom door itself, and the Star Terrace at all times. Felix was near Byleth every moment that she would allow, which was not as often as the swordsman would have liked because she insisted that she already had Balthus and all the additional knights watching her. Things were reaching a frightening boiling point between the two of sword wielders, and he couldn’t even begin to understand why. It was always one step forward, three steps back with those two and it _wasn’t_ driving him absolutely mad. Nope. Not at all.

Though… normally it was Felix that was taking the three steps back. Watching them interact lately, it seemed like Byleth was the one that was pushing Felix away. There was this… _look_ in her eye whenever Felix was around. It was subtle, but after all the time he’d spent analyzing Byleth’s facial features—and with having experience from being friends with Felix his entire life—he could still see it. He didn’t know what had happened between them, but she was definitely acting strange. 

....

Finally, after days of endless meetings and training, it was time to leave the monastery. The march toward the bridge was a tense affair. Ingrid and her flying battalion that had recently arrived from Galatea flew overhead, scouting to make sure they wouldn’t come across any Gloucester forces. The plan was to attack the Great Bridge before dawn in an effort to catch the Imperial forces by surprise, so they camped a few miles away the night before with no fires so they wouldn’t be spotted.

There was a slight commotion through camp as a lone rider approached them, covered in a hooded cloak so their features were concealed. They were stopped with raised weapons by those on patrol, only for them to reach up and remove their hood.

“Yuri? Seriously?” Felix clicked his tongue disdainfully and turned away. The trickster had been gone for nearly a month now, a fact that was only adding to the stress that Byleth was feeling. Not only was she down a tactician, she felt responsible for him leaving. Byleth told him that Yuri gave the excuse that he was looking into something he’d found in Maggie’s room, but she didn’t think that was the only reason he had gone. He’d been acting off since the attack in Abyss, and Byleth being Byleth, she felt like everything was her fault.

It wasn’t… but that was a moot point with her.

“Let’s go see what’s going on,” he prodded, nudging Felix with his elbow before walking toward Byleth’s tent, where he was certain Yuri would be heading.

“Boss!” Balthus greeted the shorter man with a hard clap on the shoulder that made him stagger in order to keep his balance. “Man! I was just wondering where you were.” At Balthus’ call, Byleth’s tent flap automatically opened and she hurriedly motioned Yuri inside. Balthus spotted him and Felix looking on, and nodded before lifting the flap of her tent so they could also enter.

They found Byleth and Yuri embracing, though they pulled apart at their entrance and the whole air around them shifted into something terribly awkward. Byleth worriedly asked, “Where have you been? How did you know we were here?”

“I know I didn’t give you any details before I left, but I wasn’t sure who was watching us so I didn’t want to risk anything.” Yuri took off his traveling cloak and Byleth grabbed a waterskin and a damp towel so he could clean off a bit as he talked. “I found something in Maggie’s room—it was a letter. A letter that mentioned “supplies” that were due to be transported from Hyrm territory to Arundel territory, with an additional drop offs near the Great Bridge and the monastery. When I saw Arundel’s name, I went to check things out on a hunch.”

Byleth grabbed at her hair as she said in a heavy exhale, “Arundel is the one who was in my vision… the one that was at Duscur.” 

Felix’s head jerked to look at them as he snapped, “What?”

Yuri explained, “In case you don’t know, Arundel’s the Regent for the Empire, and the emperor’s uncle. He’s had significant power since the start of the war. Byleth said she saw him in that… vision… whatever. It was also in his territory that the fighters that I took to try and free the people who had been abducted from Abyss were slaughtered by an ambush of demonic beasts.”

“Shit,” he murmured.

Yuri lifted an eyebrow and nodded. “Anyway, I saw that letter and I traveled to Hrym myself, and what I found there…” He had rarely seen rage like the type that twisted Yuri’s features. “Byleth it’s awful. Worse than Abyss. I knew that things were bad—they have been since the uprising in 1167—but the people are barely surviving now. Lord Arundel seized control over the region after von Aegir lost his power. Apparently, people regularly go missing, conscription to the army is mandated at the penalty of death on the spot if you resist, and those that can’t fight are taxed to the point where people are in too dire of straits to even flee! Those that collect the taxes say they are doing it in the name of Lord Aegir, but he hasn’t held power in years.”

Byleth sat down on her cot and dropped her head to her hands, “Edelgard… what the hell are you doing?”

He interjected, “Could they be talking about Ferdinand? Perhaps he was made Lord of his household and he gave the order?”

Byleth shook her head, still not looking up at them. “Then why would he be assigned to the Great Bridge? Besides, that doesn’t sound like Ferdinand at all. He may have been pompous, but he genuinely wanted what was best for the common people. These people are suffering, he wouldn’t allow that…”

Yuri nodded. “I was gone so long because I was smuggling in what little supplies I could manage to get my hands on. It wasn’t much, but it was all I could do right now without drawing attention to myself.”

Byleth lifted her head and asked, “What supplies?”

Yuri grinned, a sharp dangerous-looking thing and flipped his hair over his shoulder. “Let’s just say I’ve made Count Varley’s life a little more difficult.” 

Felix snorted in amusement and when Yuri glanced over, the swordsman nodded in approval. “Asshole deserves any amount of trouble you’ve given him.”

Byelth hesitantly said, “I’m normally inclined to agree, but what if the people in Varley are suffering as well?” 

“It was House Varley’s personal stores I raided.” At Byleth’s lifted eyebrow, Yuri placed a finger over his lips like it was a salacious secret and winked.

He asked, “Did you find out any more information about the letter you found? Like what was being transported from Hrym if they are in such dire straits?”

Yuri shook his head as a small frown pulled at his lips. “The people were terrified. Getting any sort of information like that proved impossible, even for me and my birds. I had to get out of there when I did because I was about to be discovered.”

Byleth shot up to her feet. “Were you followed?”

Yuri stepped forward and pushed some of the hair out of her face with a condescending click of his tongue. “Who do you take me for? An amateur? I figured you guys would be heading this way eventually, so I laid low until you arrived.”

“I’m glad you’re back,” Byleth sighed. She wrapped her arms around Yuri’s waist and he returned the embrace. “I’m really sorry about everything that happened with Maggie.”

Yuri nodded and leaned his head against Byleth’s. “I know. It wasn’t your fault. I’m… not great when it comes to betrayal. I needed a minute to clear my head.”

Byleth hummed in acknowledgement and stepped out of his hold. “There’s not much I can do from Hrym right now. I’ll bring it up with Claude when I see him, but for now…”

“You don’t have anything to give, and you don’t have the forces to take the city yourself,” Yuri sighed. “I know, I understand.” 

His heart sank as he added, “Unfortunately, after five years of war, famine and poverty are widespread within the Empire and the Kingdom. The end of the war isn’t going to be the end of our problems.”

Felix grumbled, “It’s a damn good place to start, though.”

Byleth sat back down on her cot as she reported to Yuri, “While you were gone, some of the masked mages came and attacked near the monastery—in the Sealed Forest.” 

“What?” Yuri’s perfectly sculpted eyebrows traveled up his forehead as he looked down at her.

“They are after Byleth, now,” Felix added with an angry crossing of his arms. “One of them called the order to take her alive.”

Yuri put a hand to his forehead as he incredulously asked, “Why? Why would Maggie attack Linhardt to send you a message, only for them to come and try to abduct you a few weeks later?”

“I don’t know,” Byleth wearily sighed, running a hand down her face in apparent exhaustion. “Dorothea seems to think that Edelgard wants me, so perhaps this was by her order and the attack on Linhardt was on Thales order? Maybe Thales is working separately? I don’t know.”

That was news to him. “Why would Edelgard want you?”

Byleth flushed slightly and worried at her lower lip. “To try and sway me to her side? I’m not sure.” It sounded like he was going to need to have a conversation with Dorothea.

“She did ask you to join her in the Holy Tomb during her first attack,” Felix mused, looking down at the floor thoughtfully.

“It’s the least of my worries right now, I just wanted you to know what you missed.” Yuri nodded and Byleth pulled out the map they had been working over formations with. “Now… Let me get you caught up for the attack tomorrow.”

....

  
“The scouts have returned,” Gilbert reported as he walked up to the group that had circled outside of the command tent. They had all rested for a few hours, but before long it was time to raid the Great Bridge. “It seems that even with the early hour, there are quite a few Imperial soldiers patrolling.”

“I see… So, the enemy has prepared for our arrival.” He wished Dimitri wouldn’t sound so excited about that fact. “It matters not. I will kill them all, whether they are one or one hundred.”

“That is not necessary,” Byleth firmly responded, staring Dimitri down as he turned to scowl at her. 

“What would you do if you saw the people who stole everything from you? If you saw them right before your eyes, living carefree lives and feeling no guilt. Would you feel nothing? Do nothing?” Byleth’s jaw tightened as Dimitri took a step forward and a cruel sneer twisted his face. “Five years ago… did you not deem the woman who killed your father to be unforgivable?” Byleth’s chest deflated on a shuddering exhale, but she stood her ground even as everyone in the circle tensed. It was cruel and unnecessary to bring up her father, and they all knew it. Most of them had seen her the day Jeralt died, and the day she cut through the sky in the Sealed Forest after vanishing into thin air. Though, that was Dimitri’s thing now, wasn’t it? To be cruel to her. “I am most certain that you did. You couldn’t let her get away with her crime, so you took up your sword in pursuit.”

“You’re right.” Byleth’s voice was small, meeker than he’d ever heard her in this sort of environment, and he hated Dimitri for making her feel that way. She looked down at the ground, defeated, which only served to make Dimitri act crueler.

“Precisely my point. You may be _blessed by the goddess_ …” his lip curled further at the words as he took another step forward and with a twisted air of possessiveness insisted, “but we’re the same you and I.”

He was about to step forward, uncomfortable with the look in Dimitri’s eye, but his swordsman beat him to it. “You’re wasting your time.” Felix walked over and placed himself between Dimitri and Byleth, facing Dimitri as he kept his stance wide and defensive. “There’s nothing to be gained from exchanging words with a boar that has lost its mind.”

Gilbert called a cautioning, “Felix…”

“What? You’re going to let him speak to her like that? To your goddess’ chosen?” Felix rolled his eyes at Gilbert’s look of shame before gently pulling Byleth to his side. “This is war. Every last one of us has lost someone we cared for. But we all choose to suppress our anger and grief and go right on living. Do you know why?”

“Because it’s pointless,” Byleth gritted out. “I killed my father’s killer. What did it do, Dima?” Dimitri flinched back at the use of the nickname. “You were there in the Sealed Forest. You saw me later that night. You know what it did. It did nothing.”

Felix nodded. “Revenge can’t bring the dead back to life. Unfortunately, such a thing isn’t possible. Hanging onto your anger, like the boar here, is futile.” 

Dimitri crossed his arms as he asked, “Tell me, Felix. If the dead are beyond reach, is it not also pointless to mourn or even bury the dead?”

Felix released a mirthless chuckle and shook his head. “That mind of yours. I’m done here.” He turned to Byleth and took her hand, causing her gaze to flicker away from Dimitri to him. “Remember, Byleth. It’s not compassion for this fool that has brought our army so far. There are those of us who despise the Empire, and those of us who side with the church, but we all stand behind _you_.”

He turned back toward Dimitri and calmly said, “If we keep running down this path, it’s only a matter of time before the ground beneath us collapses.”

Rodrigue called out, “That’s enough, Felix,” making his son roll his eyes and move to stand behind Byleth. “The soldiers are ready to march on your command.” Except… he was looking at Dimitri.

The prince lifted his Relic as he called, “Then let’s move out at once. Every moment counts.”

Rodrigue bowed at the waist as he said, “Understood. Let’s show those Empire dastards the power of the Knights of Faerghus!” There was a roar from the surrounding soldiers as they banged their weapons and psyched themselves up, but Byleth remained stone faced as she looked in the direction of the Great Bridge.

He approached her and Felix and implored them, “Please, be safe. Both of you.” He hated that he wouldn’t be anywhere near them, but Byleth had told him she needed him to hold the backline in case of Alliance intervention, and he would do whatever she needed.

“Keep your eyes open,” Byleth warned, something pleading in her gaze. “I’ll be far away.”

“I’ll keep everyone safe,” he promised.

“Keep yourself safe,” Felix insisted in a low tone as he reached out to hold the sash near his belt.

“I will.”

  
The Bridge really was like a grand fortress built over the water. He vaguely remembered what it looked like from the air as they had crossed it for the Battle of the Eagle and Lion, but it cut a terrifying image as they stormed onto it, especially when the two people he loved most in the world were in the first wave of fighters to meet the Imperial forces, causing the alarm horns to begin blaring as they announced the enemy raid. 

Their raid. They were really doing this.

Ignatz rode beside him as Raphael ran behind them, surrounded by the armored battalion that Byleth had arranged for them, and his own men. “Keep your eyes open,” he called. “We may be the back line, but there is still the possibility of an attack from the Alliance side!”

Sounds of affirmation followed his call as they ran forward, taking out those that had survived the initial wave, and taking the weapons of the few who surrendered. He ordered a few of the men from his battalion, “Line them up against the barricade!” They nodded, dismounting to situate the prisoners. Byleth wanted to conserve as much life as they could. It seemed especially important after hearing about Hrym. How many of these people were fighting for the emperor because it was the only choice they had?

“I really hope Lorenz is going after Claude right now,” Raphael murmured, watching as Rodrigue’s formation surrounded the fortress where the knights that were likely sleeping before the alarm started blaring were spilling out in droves. Ingrid and her flying battalion swerved out of the way just as a ballista began firing at them, shooting one of her battalion members out of the sky. Ignatz, Raphael, and himself charged forward to help, and Sylvain was cutting down a heavily armored knight when they first roar rang out.

“O-Oh no,” Ignatz murmured.

Three Demonic Beasts transformed further down the bridge. One of the soldiers that went through the ghastly transformation had been close enough to the side walls that the wall crumbled as the beast bashed its tail against it. Byleth took out the Sword of the Creator and released a battle cry before launching herself forward into the beast, cutting a gash into its neck. Felix followed close behind, and began to bash his sword into the Aegis shield in an attempt to confuse it as Byleth rolled out of the way of a Fire attack.

“My Lord! Enemy reinforcements!” One of his men cried out as he was struck with a Wind spell, and he turned to charge the enemies that seemed to be warping directly onto the bridge.

“Not fair!” Raphael shouted as he began pummeling one of the heavily armored units that had appeared. Honestly, he was inclined to agree. Warping powers were becoming a real pain in his ass, here.

“They are Alliance forces,” Ignatz announced, his face twisted in consternation as he shot down an enemy mage. Ignatz and Raphael knew this was a possibility coming into the battle, but he knew what it was like to cut down your own countrymen, even when they were on the opposite side of the war.

“Of course, we are Alliance forces,” a short man with a terrible haircut and mustache haughtily sneered. “I’ve got to make my name known to Her Majesty through distinguished service.”

“Too bad I don’t even know who you are,” he chimed in an easy tone.

“W-What?! D-Don’t…” The man straightened his tunic and recomposed himself, and he bit back a laugh at how easy the man was to rile up. “I am Lord Acheron, and I will be defeating you.”

He risked a glance at Ignatz, who shrugged and strung an arrow on his bow. “Minor Lord who has no sense of honor or loyalty. They call him the Weathervane. Claude isn’t fond of him.”

“Well, then,” he raised the Lance of Ruin and watched Lord Acheron’s face pale at the sight of it. “You see, Weathervane, you’ve attacked my men, and I can’t let that stand.”

Raphael whooped, “The wind blew you the wrong way, buddy!” as he charged toward Acheron’s guards. He and Ignatz followed suit, with Ignatz taking out one of the cavalry units with an arrow to the rider’s neck as he charged another heavily armored one with the Lance of Ruin blazing in his hand. There was a loud cry, and he glanced toward Acheron, only to have his heart stop.

Standing over a sniveling Acheron, was a ghost. It… had to be a ghost. But this ghost looked very real, especially as he hefted an axe and growled, “For His Highness,” as he finished off the minor Lord.

“Dedue?!” The call was strained as he rode forward, trying to focus on cutting down the last of the enemy reinforcements with the fact that his mind and heart were racing.

“Hello, Sylvain.” A slight smile pulled at Dedue’s lips as he charged forward to take out an enemy mage. It was the last enemy soldier, and without another thought he leapt from his horse to embrace the much larger man.

“You’re alive?! Where have you been?!” Dedue lifted two fingers to his lips and whistled a high note, and a group of men came running onto the bridge. Their skin was dark, and a few of them had Dedue’s light hair. “We will speak more when the battle is won,” he promised, before calling something in what had to be Duscurian and raising his axe. The men behind him loosed battle cries and charged after Dedue as he ran forward.

“Well, you heard the man!” He laughed jubilantly, unable to help it with the relief he felt upon seeing his old friend alive and well, and leapt back onto his horse. “We have a Bridge to finish taking!” He raised the Lance of Ruin and charged toward the middle of the Bridge.

As he rode forward, he smiled as he thought about how happy Byleth was going to be.

~Byleth~

“Surrender and I’ll let what remains of your men, live!” The woman atop the wyvern swooping down for an attack looked hauntingly familiar. It seemed the woman Claude had shot down for her during the Battle of Garreg Mach was now a general. “General Ladislava! Surrender!”

“To repay Her Majesty’s favor, I will not let you pass!” Ladislava shot toward her, axe raised, but her weapon was outclassed. Byleth raised her sword and pointed toward the wyvern’s wing, saying a silent apology to the poor beast as she launched the Sword of the Creator’s links forward— _shot the pieces of Sothis’ spine forward_ —and took out the wyvern’s wing. It let out an agonized roar as it plummeted towards the ground.

“Ladislava, NO!” It was a familiar voice crying out for their comrade, and she whipped her head toward it to see a matured Ferdinand with flowing auburn hair, his face twisted in anguish as he watched his fellow general fall through the air.

She yelled to Felix, “We have to go!” and he nodded as they sprinted forward, with Bernadetta and Dorothea directly behind them, astride Bernadetta’s horse. Dimitri was currently distracted with a demonic beast, but they had to hurry before he charged in with no intent to give mercy.

Bernadetta pleaded, “Ferdinand! You have to surrender!”

Dorothea called out, “The Professor, she’ll spare what’s left of your men! Come with us, Ferdie. Edelgard has to be stopped. This war has gone on for far too long!” right after as she leapt off of Bernadetta’s horse.

“Bernadetta… Dorothea…” True sorrow showed on Ferdinand’s face as he grasped his lance. “I must defend this area. I must follow my orders.”

“Oh, Ferdie. You opposed her for so long. I had real faith in you, you know? But now you’re following her. Is that your duty as a noble? To follow your master when they say to heel?”

“I will not try to explain my duty, or hers. You would not understand. I wish you could. Anyway, no time for idle chit chat!” Ferdinand lowered his lance and began to charge them as the air filled with magic. A Thunder spell fell from the sky, directly hitting Ferdinand as he charged them. With a broken sob, Dorothea ran toward her fallen friend, partially crushed beneath the corpse of his steed.

Ferdinand croaked, “We were… the two jewels… of Adrestia,” and then let out a ragged exhale as he died. 

Dorothea’s wail still echoed in her mind as time froze, before slowly turning back.

Before Bernadetta or Dorothea had the chance to say anything, she called out, “I can help you, Ferdinand! You don’t have to listen to Edelgard’s orders anymore. Come with us peacefully!”

He smiled sadly as he lowered his lance, “Edelgard has always been obsessed with you. I am a little envious, to be frank. I will just have to impress her with my skills on the battlefield!” He charged forward as Dorothea and Bernadetta both cried out, _“Ferdinand, no!”_ But he didn’t listen. Why wasn’t he going to listen?!

She launched the Sword of the Creator forward, cutting out the front legs of his steed, and the poor beast bucked him through the air with a harsh bray before crumbling forward. Ferdinand recovered quickly, rolling to his feet and readying his lance.

She held up her hand to stop Felix, Dorothea, and Bernadetta. “Don’t attack him!” She then called, “Ferdinand, I taught you how to wield that lance. You know what I’m capable of. Do you truly wish to fight me?” 

She could see his resolve hardening as he shifted his grip on his lance. “I have no choice. I must defend this area! I must protect the Great Bridge!” He charged forward, lance raised, and she parried the blow on the Shield of Seiros before attempting to use the butt of her sword to disarm him. He held tight and swept his lance across, making it so she had to flip back and out of the way if she didn’t want to use the full might of the Sword of the Creator. He took advantage of the fact that she wasn’t aiming to kill, and charged, but Dimitri charged forward with a beastly snarl and carved straight through him with Areadbhar.

“FERDINAND!” Bernadetta sobbed astride her horse as Dorothea rushed forward to cradle her friend, just as she had the last time. 

Time shattered once again. This battle had been trying and this was her fifth time using it. The enemy reinforcements spilling out of the fortress had caught their forces by surprise, as had the ballista. Not to mention when she’d been swiped off the edge of the bridge by the tail of one of the Demonic Beasts and had to turn back time before drowning in the Airmid River below them. Already she could feel the fatigue settling in her limbs, but she had to try again.

_One last time. I have to try one last time._

She turned it back further this time—Ladislava was still falling from the sky when time commenced. “You’re going to hate me for this.” Felix’s eyes widened as he turned to look at her, but she had already started sprinting forward. Dorothea and Bernadetta called out in confusion, asking what she was doing, but she blocked it out as she rushed directly toward Ferdinand. 

Brown eyes widened as he spotted her sprinting toward him, and he lowered his lance to begin charging her. In what was a ridiculously reckless move, she dropped the Sword of the Creator to the ground, earning a cry of alarm from Felix and even wider eyes from Ferdinand.

“I don’t want to kill you!” Time seemed to slow as she ducked to the side just enough to avoid the drive of Ferdinand’s lance, and used the dagger on her hip to cut the bindings of the saddle, causing Ferdinand to lose balance and begin tipping to the other side. She swatted at the horse’s flank, and it attempted to gallop away, but at the unintentional pull of the reins from Ferdinand, who was falling over, it bucked up onto its hind legs with a panicked bray, sending Ferdinand tumbling to the ground. 

She closed the little distance between them as his horse fled, and stomped on the shoulder of the arm that Ferdinand was using in a futile attempt to swing his lance at her, and he cried out in pain as he lost grip before she used the butt of her dagger to knock him out.

“What the fuck was that?!” Felix seethed, his nostrils flaring in his rage at her reckless move.

“He wasn’t going to surrender,” she panted. “I had to.”

“You don’t know that!” Dorothea cried, looking in horror at Ferdinand unconscious form.

“He’s alive. We’ll give him the option to surrender or die when he can’t hurt anyone else.” She was panting from her sprinting, but she walked over and dipped down to grab the Sword of the Creator. 

Felix harshly grabbed her arm and pulled her against his chest as he hissed, “ _Never again_. Do you hear me?” He was anxious, she could feel it emanating from him in agonizing waves, but she couldn’t promise that. She placed a hand over the one on her arm, but didn’t have the chance to say anything.

“Professor!” She looked up to see Ingrid calling down to her from her pegasus. “Lorenz is on the bridge with reinforcements!”

“Fuck.” She glanced around, checking on her soldiers. Everyone seemed to be fine for now, but Dimitri would be arriving soon. She had to get Lorenz first. 

“Try to keep Dimitri away!” she called, though she knew there was little Ingrid could do in that regard. She looked to Dorothea and Bernadetta as she ordered, “Stay with Ferdinand. If he wakes…” She paused, praying that he wouldn’t. “Don’t let him kill you.”

A familiar head of red hair came thundering toward her, and she found that Leonie’s face was twisted with determination as she led her steed toward the drawbridge that connected the different parts of the Great Bridge. She raced after Leonie, too busy trying to keep Lorenz alive to try and call out orders. There were very few enemies left, so the Bridge was practically theirs. 

Now she just had to convince Lorenz of that fact.

Felix sprinted along behind her as they tried and failed to keep up with Leonie on her horse, though it seemed that Lorenz hadn’t called for his reinforcements to attack the mercenary-turned-bow knight just yet. Leonie stopped at the end of the drawbridge, and she and Felix ran up behind her as she pulled something from her pocket and tied it to the end of her lance.

In a tone that was mockingly jovial, Leonie called, “Lorenz! I wondered if I’d see you here!”

“Leonie…” Lorenz fiddled with his lance as his horse stomped its feet. “What are you doing here?!” She walked up to stand beside Leonie’s horse, and Lorenz’s eyes blew wide. “Professor?! It… It has been a while. If this were anywhere but the battlefield, I would offer you some tea. However, I’ve no choice but to follow the Empire if I wish to live. I hope you will not think ill of me.”

“You don’t have to fight for them, Lorenz. Fight with us. We’ll end Edelgard’s conquest together!”

“I…” Where Ferdinand’s resolve had hardened at her words, Lorenz’s faltered.

Seeing his hesitation, Leonie called out, “I have your handkerchief, Lorenz. I’m giving it back to you either way, but I’d really rather you just made the right decision here.” When Byleth chanced a glance, she noticed that Leonie had indeed tied a handkerchief to the end of her lance, which she was holding out in Lorenz direction. Lorenz’s eyes tracked to it as well before moving to Leonie’s face, which had hardened with resolve even if her eyes looked unbearably sad at the thought of cutting down her former classmate. “Come on, Lorenz. You know this war isn’t right. Your people are suffering, but we can help them together.”

“The Bridge is already ours, Lorenz. Surrender, and I’ll spare you and your men.”

“But… to abandon House Gloucester…” She was about to tell him that she was going to ask his father to fight with them, but Lorenz smiled as he called out, “No—I can convince my father. I will help you topple the Empire, I swear it!”

One of the soldiers behind the purple-haired noble hesitantly asked, “My Lord?”

Lorenz called, “Drop your weapons! I have faith they will not harm us.”

“It’s a farce, all of it.” She startled and turned around to find Dimitri glowering at her. 

She sheathed the Sword of the Creator as she firmly said, “We’ve taken the Bridge. That is enough.” 

Dimitri looked as though he was opening his mouth to spit out a retort, before a deep voice called, “Your Highness…” Dimitri’s eye blew wide just as her own did as they both turned to look at who had called.

Her eyes filled with tears as she spotted Dedue—broader and far more scarred, but her Dedue—standing at the other end of the drawbridge. Felix caught her arm as she swayed, nearly incapacitated by the energy she’d expended in the battle and the sudden onslaught of relief that filled her from head to toe. Dedue… her last lion cub. He was _alive_.

Dimitri visibly trembled where he stood, staring at Dedue with a look somewhere between horror and disbelief. Dedue began to stride forward, his heavily armored footsteps thudding against the wood of the drawbridge as he made his way to his liege. When he had closed the distance between them, Dimitri reached out a hesitant hand, but eventually dropped it back to his side. 

She lightly pushed off of Felix’s support—sending Felix a small smile when he made a noise of protest—and walked to stand just behind Dimitri as she softly said, “He’s here, Dimitri. I see him, too.” Dedue’s eyes widened somewhat at the sight of her, and she smiled weakly in greeting, instead of rushing over and flinging herself at him as she wished to, knowing that this moment needed to be for Dimitri.

“Dedue!” Dimitri’s voice cracked over his vassal and friend’s name. “Why… How are you here? You died. Five years ago…”

“I was saved by my brothers… Men of Duscur.”

“Look at what we have here… the woman with the sword like fire is alive!” She looked past Dedue, where a familiar face looked between her and Dimitri with an appraising eye. It was the general from the day they had gone to stop the Kingdom from wiping out the rest of the people of Duscur.

Dimitri’s eye landed on the general, and widened with recognition. “You… you saved him?”

The man nodded before replying, “The people of Duscur never forget their grudges, Prince of Faerghus, nor do they fail to honor a favor.” Dimitri was nearly vibrating with emotion as the man turned to Dedue and said something in their mother tongue before walking away again.

Dedue turned back to face them as he said, “Your Highness… I asked that you fulfill your long-held desire, did I not? Allow me to once again act as your sword and shield. Please, let me witness your triumph. I want to behold the moment when your wish is finally granted.”

“Dedue…” Dimitri’s voice wavered with emotion as he stepped forward and pulled Dedue into an embrace. “Of course. And in exchange, I ask that you swear something to me, here and now. Do not ever throw your life away again. Understood?”

“Your Highness…” Dedue’s arms were still at his sides as Dimitri hugged him, until he returned the embrace and answered, “Understood.”

She glanced to her side as Felix stepped up to her, his arms crossed over his chest as he watched the two men embrace. “Never again,” he whispered, shifting his gaze to look at her. “You aren’t allowed to risk your life in a reckless move like that ever again.”

She softly responded, “I can’t promise that, Felix. You know I can’t.” 

“What are the rest of us supposed to do when you charge forward, drop your fucking sword, and die trying to save Ferdinand von fucking Aegir?!” He turned on her, eyes narrowed and hissed, “What am I supposed to do when I watch you get skewered by someone’s lance? When you die for someone else instead of being here, with me, where I _need_ you?!”

If she had a heart, she imagined it would be shattering in her chest, but she didn’t. The lump of stone sat unmoving, even as something in her very soul ached to comfort him. “Fe…”

He stepped closer as he lowly hissed, “Don’t _Fe_ , me! You want to push me away, you want to be alone, you want to pull reckless stunts?” He opened his mouth, but didn’t finish. She imagined he was about to say he was done—done caring, done trying, done following after her.

She grabbed his hand and pulled it to her chest. “Felix… I’m sorry. I… I need you. Of course, I do…”

She thought she heard his voice crack as he pleaded, “Then tell me you’re going to stop. Tell me you’re going to keep yourself safe!”

“I need to keep _everyone_ safe, Fe… I don’t—" Felix’s gaze hardened before he turned and walked toward where Leonie and some of the Knights of Seiros were binding what remained of Lorenz and Ferdinand’s men. She ached as she watched him go, but she knew she couldn’t make that promise. She’d do whatever it took to keep the people she cared about safe, but perhaps that was exactly the problem. She couldn’t give him what he wanted this time.

When she glanced over, Dimitri was striding away, his shoulders rigidly set as he walked back toward where she had faced Ferdinand. Dedue stood, staring at her with sad eyes. He glanced toward where Felix had stormed off and commented, “I suppose one person hasn’t changed.”

She smiled weakly and walked forward, a lump forming in her throat as her vision blurred with tears. Unable to hold back any longer, she ran forward and launched herself into Dedue’s heavily armored chest. He caught her easily, holding her off the ground as he stammered, “You… are not angry with me?”

“Angry with you?” She chuckled brokenly and shook her head. “Why on earth would I be angry with you? You are alive, lion cub. I don’t think I have ever been happier than I am in this moment.”

He quietly reminded her, “I defied you in the Holy Tomb.”

“But you did as I ordered and got Dimitri away from the monastery before it fell.” 

After a moment’s pause, he added, “I was not there to defend you…”

She chuckled weakly and shook her head. “No one was, Dedue. I ordered you all to flee. And besides, no one could have saved me that day.”

“I… remembered your words. After you were gone. That it would be better to live to fight another day. It was one of the things that has kept me going all of this time.”

“I’m so glad you’re here.” She sniffled as a tear trailed down her cheek. “Welcome back, lion cub. We missed you.”

“Thank you… Professor.” Dedue put her back on her feet, and caught her as she swayed with a look of concern etched across his face. “Are you injured? Do you need a healer?”

She patted his arm as she shook her head. “I expended a lot of energy during the battle, but I’ll be fine. Why don’t you go and talk to the others while I check on Dimitri?”

Dedue glanced toward where Dimitri was pacing, his hands clenched at his sides as he spoke to someone they could not see. “My brothers and I heard rumors of a One-Eyed Demon prowling Faerghus… this is not what I was expecting when I found His Highness.”

“He’s… lost… in the darkness of his hurt and anger. Perhaps you can help me lead him back to the light.”

“I am not certain I would be of use for such a task, but I will do what I can.” She smiled and patted Dedue’s arm again, before stepping away so the other Lions could swarm a thoroughly overwhelmed Dedue. Ashe was sobbing in joy and relief as he latched onto Dedue’s arm and Mercedes had pulled the much larger man into a warm embrace as happy tears streamed down her face. Sylvain had moved to drape an arm over the larger man’s shoulders as Annette grabbed the arm that Ashe wasn’t occupying. Even Ingrid had dismounted and was watching from a few feet away with a look of somewhat awkward relief. 

Her lion cubs were back together… now they just needed their prince to make his way back to them.

She made her way toward Dimitri, who had stopped his pacing, and was standing at the edge of the bridge, staring down at the rose-colored water, tainted with the blood of those that had died this morning. At her approach he grunted, “Idiots. Embracing death for the sake of that woman.” He crossed his arms, still staring down at the Airmid River beneath them instead of at her. “Truly foolish…”

She stopped a few feet away and softly asked, “What troubles you, Dimitri?”

He dropped his arms to his sides as he sighed and turned to look at her. “I… I don’t know.”

She hazarded a question, bracing herself for the fury she thought might follow. “Do you regret killing them?”

Various emotions filtered through Dimitri’s expression, before he landed on yet another scowl. “They were just beasts with human faces. I had no choice but to kill them, and so I did.” He paused as the scowl softened and his eyes dropped to the ground. “That… that is all there is to it.” It was the first inkling of remorse she had seen from him—without him dying in her arms directly after, that is—since she’d found him in the Goddess Tower. That seed of hope that had been struggling within her since the incident while they defended the monastery, finally took root as relief trickled into her chest. 

_He isn’t completely lost. Dedue being back… it’s helping him. All hope isn’t lost._

Rodrigue approached and called, “It is time you two returned. We must discuss our next course of action.” She bit back a sigh of displeasure and nodded before following Rodrigue as he led them toward the area where Lorenz and his reinforcements had emerged. She wasn’t pleased with Rodrigue’s actions before the battle, but now wasn’t the time to address that issue.

“Please! I need to join you, no matter the cost!” A young girl was standing in front of a group of the Knights of Seiros, who looked to be attempting to corral her toward the edge of the bridge.

“I’m sorry, but my hands are tied.” The knight grabbed her arm to drag her away, and she started to call out, begging them to let her join them.

Rodrigue called out, “By the goddess! What’s with all the commotion?” The girl looked at them upon their approach, and her eyes widened with fear. “What is this girl doing here? This is an army, not an orphanage.”

She stepped forward to ask the girl, “Are you alright? What troubles you?”

The knight answered when the girl continued to mutely stare at her, her eyes wide and fearful. Was she scared of her? Her position? “I believe she’s from a nearby village. She keeps insisting that she needs to join our ranks.”

Rodrigue turned on the knight and scoffed, “And you thought we could use a child on the front lines? Hurry up and take her back to her parents.”

The girl bowed deeply in front of her and frantically begged, “My family is gone. I don’t have anywhere else to go. Please! I can use magic, and I can fight! I can cook, do laundry, anything!”

Rodrigue shook his head as he stepped to her side. “I’m sure there are plenty of more suitable places to find work. Why are you so fixated on this army, young lady?”

An unsettling amount of resolve and anger settled over the girl’s features as her eyes narrowed. “I need… to get revenge. I must strike down the one who murdered my big brother!”

She turned to Rodrigue as she whispered, “There are enough vendettas in this army…” 

Rodrigue sighed and turned to Dimitri… _again_. “Your Highness… What should we do?”

Dimitri crossed his arms and looked off to the side. “Let her do as she pleases.”

The girl gave her a look before bowing to Dimitri. “Thank you… very much.” The knight bowed to Rodrigue and led her toward Alois, who was calling out orders for how to deal with those that had surrendered. She watched, her chest heavy, but let them go. Hopefully the Knights would be able to find her something off the battlefield. There wasn’t much she could do about it now.

As they entered the fortress, she asked Rodrigue, “You’ve taken care of Lorenz and Ferdinand?”

“I am taking you to where they are being held right now,” he answered with a nod. 

“Lorenz surrendered willingly, so I see no reason for him to be bound. However, Ferdinand did not.”

“Bernadetta informed me of the… _circumstances_ … around his capture.” He sent her a look that looked very similar to Felix’s “what on earth were you thinking” one. “I believe he is still unconscious, and I have healers working on his broken shoulder. However, are we certain it is wise to take him prisoner?”

Dimitri scoffed, “If he wishes to die for that woman, so be it.”

“No.” She stepped in front of Dimitri and forced him to look at her. “Dimitri, he’s mine to deal with, do you understand? You will not harm him.” She turned and narrowed her eyes at Rodrigue as she emphasized, “Lorenz and Ferdinand are prisoners of the Church of Seiros. They are under my protection.” She almost tacked on, “You’re not to let Dimitri have his way in this matter as you do everything else.” But chose not to at the last moment. 

She really was fond of Rodrigue, but when it came to Dimitri, he was far too loyal to his crown—to the point that she felt it was only harming Dimitri. She knew that Rodrigue loved him like a son, but he was also placing pressure on Dimitri that he really didn’t need right now. Dimitri wasn’t in any state to be giving any orders, he wasn’t even in any state to be fighting—not that there was any possibility of getting him to stop. Rodrigue’s insistence that Dimitri be handing out orders was starting to grate on her nerves, as was the fact that Rodrigue was always going to give weight to the lost prince’s thoughts, over her own.

Maybe she was beginning to understand how Felix felt…

_Felix…_

Rodrigue nodded in agreement before reporting, “You should also know that Sylvain and the rest of the back line were attacked by a minor lord from the Alliance, one Lord Acheron.”

“The Weathervane,” she droned. She vaguely remembered hearing Claude speak of him back during the Academy when he and the Deer went to settle a dispute for Lorenz and his father.

Rodrigue nodded. “He was killed in our army’s counterattack.”

“Let us hope Claude won’t be upset about that,” she sighed. She didn’t think he would be—Acheron didn’t have a seat at the Roundtable and he was a bit of a pest, period. However, he was still a minor lord. It could cause trouble.

It looked as though Lorenz and Ferdinand were being kept in a luxurious, if a bit small, infirmary on an upper floor of the fortress, likely used for the generals and higher forms of leadership. Lorenz sat at a table beneath the window, looking out over the Great Bridge with his wrist bound together in front of him, while Ferdinand lay unconscious, tied to the bed. 

Lorenz turned his head to face them at their approach, and what she recognized as his formal smile stretched across his cheeks. Lorenz’s hair had grown longer over the years as well, in a style that suited him far more than the awkward bowl cut had. His features had become sharper with age, and he looked every bit the picture of the perfect noble as he crossed his legs daintily and greeted, “Professor, I must say you look as lovely as you did before the fall of the monastery. It is such a pleasant surprise to find you alive and well.”

She huffed a quiet laugh at the compliment—she was likely covered in Demonic Beast blood from an earlier tussle, so she could only imagine how she truly looked—before responding, “You’ve grown well, Lorenz.”

“Why, thank you.” He smiled primly as he attempted to flip his hair back, but with his hands bound the move looked awkward. She walked over and took the dagger from her side to cut his binds, before examining his wrists. There were no marks, so the binds had to have been loose. She imagined Leonie had done them so they were somewhat comfortable, as the knots were far more complex than what she expected from one of the knights.

“You are technically a prisoner of the Church of Seiros until I tell you otherwise, but I don’t see the need for bindings in a setting such as this,” she explained when Lorenz looked to her in question. 

He nodded slowly. “Ah, I see.”

“I’ve been in contact with Claude,” Lorenz’s eyes widened slightly at the admission, “and I was hoping that you would be part of the Gloucester forces that are currently marching toward Claude’s ‘training exercise’ at the border of Riegan and Gloucester lands.”

“I was already here visiting Ferdinand when you attacked, as such I had no choice but to lend the Empire my aid with the current standing of my house. Though, it is hardly a surprise that Claude would have such a scheme,” Lorenz haughtily huffed.

“You misunderstand,” she interjected as she crossed her arms behind her back, “This was my plan.” Lavender eyes widened as they landed on her and she continued, “I did not wish to kill any Gloucester troops as our forces made their way here, thus the reason I reached out to Claude for assistance. I plan to take you to your father and request that he formally ally himself with the Church of Seiros.”

“You may find that it is not that simple,” he countered, his voice holding a slight tremble as he gingerly rubbed his wrists.

“What do you mean?” Rodrigue asked from his place near the door. Dimitri had made his way to the window and was looking out over the Great Bridge, whether he was even paying attention to the conversation or not, she could not know.

Lorenz lightly cleared his throat before explaining, “When my father expressed interest in allying himself with Her Majesty, she sent… emissaries… to stay with us at House Gloucester.”

“Let me guess… frightening people who always wear masks?” Lorenz startled at her assumption, though nodded to say she was correct. “We’ve had quite a few troubles of our own with this mysterious group that Edelgard has allied herself with.”

“They watch our every move,” he explained with a hint of nervousness. “My father has no choice but to continue his support of Her Majesty as long as they have a presence within our household. These men… they are capable of unspeakable things.”

“I’m aware,” she sighed. Lorenz looked to her in question but she waved it off. “We will be resting here for the remainder of the day, and I will discuss this issue with the war council later this afternoon once everyone has had a moment to rest.” She turned to Rodrigue as she added, “It would likely be best to pull a small team together to clear out the mages before going to Count Gloucester, himself.” She was already mentally compiling a list. They would have to move quickly, without causing chaos, so perhaps Yuri and some of his men, Shamir, herself…

Something of a wicked smirk curled Rodrigue’s lips as he commented, “The emperor will not be pleased.”

“That is reason enough,” Dimitri rumbled, still not looking toward them.

She nodded. “The supply caravan should be arriving tomorrow with fresh troops to hold the Great Bridge. It is probably best that those that aren’t needed here, or for the mission to Gloucester, return to the monastery.” 

That garnered Dimitri’s full attention as he turned to glower at her from the window. She saw Lorenz tense up out of the corner of her eye. “Run back to the monastery with our tails between our legs when we have just taken the Great Bridge of Myrddin from that woman’s scaly claws?”

“We won’t have the forces necessary to continue until we have secured an alliance with the Lords at the Roundtable. That will take time and diplomacy. Would you like to handle that yourself, Dimitri?” He huffed, unamused at her line of questioning, as Rodrigue closed his eyes.

“Then I will continue on my own,” Dimitri threatened in a low voice.

She firmly stated, “You won’t make it past Gronder Field on your own.”

He objected, “You don’t know what I’m capable of, do not act as if you do.”

“Oh, but I do, Dimitri. Likely more than anyone else here. I also care about you enough to tell you ‘no’.” Rodrigue’s eyes opened, but fell to the floor.

“You forget your place, _Professor_.” He snarled the title as he took long strides to close the distance between them. “You are a mercenary, nothing more. You have no authority to order me to do anything.”

She met his gaze, undeterred by his cruel words. “You told me that my dear friend, Prince Dimitri, was long since dead when I found you. If he is dead, you are a soldier under my command as Archbishop of the Church of Seiros and commander of this rebellion, and you _will_ follow my orders.” He clenched his fists at his sides as rage twisted his features. She calmly asked, “Unless you are actually my Dima?”

One lone blue eye widened, fixating on her face. For the briefest moment, his countenance changed, and she thought he might say yes. There was a longing there, like Dimitri was reaching out to her, but before she could reach back, it was gone. Dimitri huffed an agitated breath and stormed out of the room, closely followed by solemn-looking Rodrigue. 

Before the door could shut behind them completely, Leonie stuck her head in. She had a tense smile on her face, and she idly wondered how much they had heard out in the hallway. “Is it alright if we come in now, Professor?”

“Come,” she motioned with a small smile. Raphael and Leonie burst through the door, with Ignatz close behind, and all three of them engulfed a loudly protesting Lorenz, but she saw the misting of happy tears in his eyes as he gave in to the warm embrace of his former classmates. 

He met her gaze over Ignatz’s shoulder and whispered, “Thank you, Professor.” She nodded in return, glancing toward the door as Dorothea walked in with Caspar and Bernadetta in tow.

Dorothea looked over Ferdinand’s unconscious form as she asked, “How is he?” As if he had heard her—or perhaps it was the rowdiness of the Deer—Ferdinand began to stir, his eyes clenching tighter as he tried to move his hands, only to run into resistance where he was bound. “Ferdie?” Light brown eyes shot open as Ferdinand tried and failed to sit up due to his bindings.

“Dorothea? Bernadetta? Caspar?” He yanked at the bindings as irritation twisted his features. “What is the meaning of this?!”

Lorenz disentangled himself from the former Golden Deer and attempted to soothe him. “Ferdinand, at ease. The Professor has brought you here—”

“That is exactly the problem, Lorenz, I do not wish to be here!”

“We’ve taken the Bridge, Ferdinand. I’m sorry that I injured you, but I did not wish to kill you or risk you harming any of my soldiers. You are bound because you are a prisoner of the Church of Seiros, but if you will agree to work with us—"

Ferdinand argued, “Work with you? I have a duty to Her Majesty! I have a duty to protect this area!”

Dorothea stepped closer to him as she pleaded, “Ferdie… Please… if you’ll just listen…”

“To you?” Ferdinand scoffed, looking at the small group of former Eagles with disdain. “To the ones who turned their backs on Edelgard and Hubert? Your friends?”

“They weren’t our friends, dude,” Caspar countered, his arms crossed over his chest and his face twisted with resentment. “They planned a whole war behind our backs and then expected us to just follow right along like it was nothing!”

Bernadetta clenched her fists at her sides before blurting out, “They are working with evil people, and they started this whole war that’s killing everybody! We can’t follow them!”

Ferdinand indignantly spluttered, “Edelgard is going to bring peace to all of Fodlan! She is going to cast down the system that has oppressed our people for centuries!”

Dorothea laughed dryly. “By conscripting all of the farmers, causing famine and poverty? By allowing her soldiers to harass the people who are trying to help the public? By dragging this war out for five years?! Who is going to be left to benefit from Edie’s actions, Ferdie? When she’s burned everything to the ground, what’s left? You opposed her for so long, I had such high hopes for you.”

“It is my duty to—”

Dorothea interrupted in a saccharine tone, “To heel when your Master says to follow? To allow the common people that you profess to look out for to suffer under the weight of Edie’s conquest? Edie’s still telling you pretty little lies, Ferdie, just like when we all attended the Officer’s Academy. She’s doing it to keep you in the dark.”

“That is not true! Hubert and I—”

Dorothea deflated and brought a hand to her forehead. “Is that what this is about? Is that why you stayed with them? Your infatuation with Hubert?” _Oh shit… this is going to be a problem._ She really didn’t need any extra reasons for Hubert to hate her.

Lorenz stilled and looked down at Ferdinand with wide eyes. “Ferdinand?”

Ferdinand flushed, whether it was due to embarrassment or rage she couldn’t quite tell. “That… That is not…”

“That’s enough,” she softly interjected, and immediately all eyes were on her. She made eye contact with each person in the room as she insisted, “Ferdinand is not on trial… yet. Let’s give him some space. Leonie, why don’t you take over watching Lorenz. Don’t let him leave your sight.” 

Leonie’s grin might have been a little devious as she saluted, “You got it, Professor.”

“Lorenz…” he looked to her, “Please don’t try anything. I’m putting my faith in you.”

Lorenz dipped his head. “Faith that is not misplaced, Professor. I will help you to rid Gloucester of those villains and convince my father to side with you. We will end this war, together.” He looked down at Ferdinand as he added, “I implore you to consider the Professor’s proposal, Ferdinand.” When Ferdinand turned his head, unable to look at Lorenz, he straightened the rose on his armor and walked away with Leonie.

Once everyone was gone, she dropped into a chair at the bedside with a heavy sigh and rubbed at her temples. “Edelgard was always so obsessed with you,” Ferdinand murmured, staring up at the ceiling unseeing. “She was convinced that you were alive, that you would return and join her. I thought that if I proved myself on the battlefield…” He clenched his eyes shut and shook his head.

“I can’t join her, Ferdinand. She’s knowingly working with the people who caused the Tragedy of Duscur, and all of the atrocities in Remire. They killed my father, and tried to trap me in Zaharas. I could never forgive what they’ve done, and I could never work with them.”

He quietly admitted, “I don’t… I don’t even know what you are talking about. Who are these people you accuse her of working with that have done all of these nefarious things?”

“That is exactly the problem, Ferdinand. You don’t know what she’s actually doing, or who she’s allied herself with. The masked mages that were fighting on the Bridge today? They are part of a group that is responsible for terrible things.”

“Hubert… he would have…”

She raised a curious eyebrow, “Would have what?”

Ferdinand shook his head and petulantly shouted, “He will come for me! Hubert will come!”

A knock sounded at the door and she called for whomever it was to enter. It was Yuri, he stuck his head in and took in Ferdinand on the bed before entering and shutting the door behind him. “Ferdinand von Aegir. I’d say it’s a pleasure to meet you, but I get the feeling it’s not reciprocated with you being all tied up like that.”

She cut in, “What’s up, Yuri?”

“I’ve been searching the bridge, and I found something you might want to see,” Yuri chimed, leaning back against the door in an easy pose, but there was tension around his eyes that told her it was a serious situation.

“I’m a little busy…” she supplied with a wave toward Ferdinand. 

“Why don’t you bring him along? He might be able to shed some light on the subject, or at the very least learn a thing or two.” She looked over at Ferdinand, unsure of whether she wanted to parade him around in bindings, it felt too… _degrading_. She pulled her dagger out and began cutting him loose.

“W-What are you doing? I am your prisoner!” She lifted an eyebrow and leveled him with a stare, causing him to flush and nervously clear his throat. Ferdinand never had been able to stand against the weight of her gaze, it seemed the effect hadn’t faded in the five years she’d been gone.

“If you try something and I don’t incapacitate you, Yuri here will.” She nodded toward Yuri, who twiddled his fingers in a wave with a too sharp smile. “I don’t feel like parading you around in bindings, but if you want them on…?”

“No, no…” Ferdinand rubbed at his wrists as he looked down at his lap. “I will… I will follow you.”

Yuri led them back across the bridge, garnering lots of attention from the Knights of Seiros and Kingdom rebellion fighters that had stormed the bridge with them. Many cheered, some called out to her, and others bowed in respect. She did her best to wave and appear calm, even though things like this always made her uncomfortable. They had just pulled off a huge victory, and she was proud of their soldiers for pulling through.

He led them into the fortress where they had cut off reinforcements—it looked like it functioned as the soldier’s barracks on the upper floors—and traveled all the way down to the lower levels, which took them a few minutes. She found that the lower they went, the more her skin began to crawl. “Yuri…” she put her hand to her head as it began to swim. “Yuri… what the hell is down here?”

Yuri looked over in alarm, and even Ferdinand was looking at her with concern. “What’s going on? Are you okay?”

She asked again, “What is down here?”

Yuri grabbed her arm with a shake of his head. “Let’s go back up. I’ll have someone else—”

“No. Tell me what it is.”

“It’s better if I just… show you.” Yuri wrapped an arm around her waist and narrowed his eyes at Ferdinand, who raised his hands in a display of innocence as he walked down in front of them. 

Ferdinand nervously chuckled, “Is this all an elaborate ploy to earn my trust only to throw me in a prison cell?”

She groggily countered, “Do you honestly think me the type?”

“No. I suppose you are far more dir—” Ferdinand’s sentence trailed off with a sharp intake of breath as he reached the lower landing.

The air was oppressive with the amount of dark magic that she could feel. She wasn’t sure whether that was garnering the dizziness and the nausea, but she had to lean against Yuri as he pulled her into the room. The cells that lined the walls were full of what looked like half formed demonic beasts, the corpses of the humans so reminiscent to the visions she had of Sothis’ children before they were made into the Relic weapons that tears formed in her eyes as bile burned in her throat. The images she had seen in the Holy Tomb were now flashing in front of what she could see, causing a headache to bloom at her temples.

Yuri’s tone rang with vitriol as he prodded, “I would love to hear your thoughts on this, Aegir. Did your empress even tell you about the experiments her allies are performing on your subjects right below your very nose? Or would you like to feign ignorance?”

Ferdinand’s eyes were widened in honest horror as he took in the inhabitants of the cells. “W-What? She would… Edelgard would never…”

Yuri snapped, “She either knows and doesn’t care, or she’s failing to keep her allies in check. Either way, she’s proving to be a ruler that doesn’t care what the price of victory is.”

“Yuri… I have to…” her vision was blacking out at the edges. Fuck, this was a bad idea. She could feel the remains of the dark magic crawling over her skin, stealing the air from her lungs. Her mind was flooded with images of Sothis’ children, halfway between forms as their bodies were ripped apart. 

“By?!” Sylvain’s voice sounded far away as the room began to spin. “What’s going on down here?”

Yuri shouted, “Just get her out of here, I have Ferdinand!” 

She was rather suddenly swept off her feet and she dropped her head against Sylvain’s shoulder as he began to walk up the stairs as quickly as he could with her extra weight in his arms. He worriedly asked, “By? By, what’s going on?”

She slurred, “Don’t… feel good.” 

Sylvain was sounding frantic now, which she hated. “Why did you take Ferdinand down there? What were you… Nevermind, let’s find Mercie.”

“No… just get me out of here.” Even now she felt better than she had down in the prison, like it was becoming easier to breathe with every foot they climbed closer to the surface. “The dark magic… it’s awful down there.” 

“The what?” She blinked her eyes open and found that she was less woozy than she had been before, though she was still lightheaded, and she still had a terrible headache. Now that she thought about it, she had felt this way before... It was when she found out about what was happening in Remire.

She murmured, “The magic… I could feel it.”

“Okay… okay, okay, hold on.” Sylvain began walking faster as she dropped her head back to his shoulder, feeling oddly comfortable in his arms. Despite his obvious worry, he pestered, “What were you thinking taking Ferdinand down there?”

She groggily explained, “He doesn’t know what Edelgard is doing… what the mages are doing to their people. He’s… confused. Yuri wanted to show him what was down there.”

“What was down there?”

She shook her head and mumbled, “You don’t want to know.” They reached the top of the stairs and she lifted her head before saying, “I’m alright, you can put me down.”

“I think we should go and find Mercedes,” Sylvain worriedly insisted, still holding her to his chest like she would vanish if he let her go. 

“We can, but you can’t carry me around. It will only worry the soldiers.”

“Right… right, okay.” Sylvain shifted her weight in his arms until he could gently set her down on the ground, but she began to tip over as she landed on her feet. He gripped her waist and pulled her against him to keep her steady, and she could feel how fast his heart was beating. That damn feeling in her stomach happened again, and she thought she suddenly felt tempted to jump off the Great Bridge.

_Seriously? Felix… and Sylvain? Seriously? Is that… is that even possible? Maybe it’s left over from the nausea. Yeah, that’s definitely it._

She stared up at him as she breathlessly asked, “Why… were you down there?”

“I was coming to check on you, silly. You haven’t had a moment to breathe since the battle ended, and I wanted to make sure you were okay. I’m glad I did… you look awful.” He brushed some hair out of her face with a small frown. He had that look in his eye, the one that always made her feel flustered and confused. She still remembered the first time he looked at her like that… _“I think I yielded to you a long time ago.”_ But she got so nervous she tried to laugh it off. She always meant to talk to him about it, but then she got blown off a cliff and then he was in love with someone else when she woke up. 

Did he mean it? Was it just a line? Either way, there was no use thinking about that now.

“I’m… tired,” she quietly admitted, unable to look into caramel eyes any longer. Feelings were becoming a real hassle. She wished she was better at ignoring them. “I’ll be okay, though.” She lightly pushed off his chest, and he took her arm to loop it with his in order to leverage most of her weight. 

“I’m still taking you to Mercedes.” 

“I need a bath,” she protested. There was still the very real problem of the demonic beast blood she was covered in. She could smell it, and it was _awful_.

“Well then, I’m taking you to the room Rodrigue had prepared for you, and then I’m bringing Mercedes to you.” 

“Sylvain…” she stopped and caramel eyes looked down at her in obvious concern, “I’m sorry.”

Sylvain quietly chuckled, “For what, By?”

She looked down at her feet as she answered, “For always worrying you. I hate it when you look worried, and you always look like that now.”

He teased, “What? Does it mess with my good looks?” _No, they make them even worse._ Waves of crimson that she wanted to curl her fingers in and _pull_. Warm caramel eyes that always made her feel flushed. She wanted to be held by strong hands. She wanted to kiss the scar on his chin, then make her way up his jaw and--

She covered her face with her hands and he sighed in defeat. “Okay, not my greatest joke. Let’s just get you to your room, okay?” 

She dropped her hands back to her sides and allowed him to drag her back to the room they had prepared for her. It was already being guarded—probably Alois’ doing—and luckily there was already water in the bath. Sylvain heated it with a weak Fire spell before rushing off to find Mercedes. She climbed into the water, heating it a bit more with her own magic, and rested her head back against the rim with a tired sigh. 

“Professor?” In what only felt like a moment later, someone touched her shoulder and her eyes shot open to find Mercedes hovering over her.

Footsteps rushed toward them as Sylvain called, “Is she…?” before making an abortive noise as he entered the doorway. He froze, looking somewhat dumbfounded for half a second before slamming his hands over his face and shouting, “Shit!”

She used her arms to try and cover her body as she called out after him, “I’m so sorry! I think I fell asleep!”

“It’s alright,” Mercedes giggled, looking far too amused as Sylvain backed out of the washroom with several frantically called apologies. “I’m sure with how busy you’ve been lately, the warm water was enough to put you right to sleep! We tried to knock, but we weren’t getting a reply, and Sylvain was rather worried. He told me you aren’t feeling well?”

“It was… I think I’m just tired from how much energy I used in the battle. I’m a bit dizzy, and a little nauseous. Maybe a slight headache.” Mercedes hummed a bit as she moved her hands to hover over her body with Faith magic glowing. 

“It does appear that you are terribly fatigued, with only a few minor scrapes. Why don’t I help you get cleaned up so you can go and rest for a while longer?”

“There’s no need for that, I can do it.”

“Are you sure?” Mercedes asked with a kind smile and a tilt of her head.

She nodded. “Yes, I’ll just be a moment.”

“Alright, but I’ll be waiting out in the bedroom so I can give you a more thorough examination once you’re dressed, just to be safe.” Mercedes stood and walked out of the washroom, shutting the door behind her. Byleth groaned as she covered her face with her hands and sank below the water.

 _Fabulous_. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is also a day that is going to take up multiple chapters. Don't worry... there's more to come. Ya'll will LOVE what is coming next chapter. Seriously, I'm so excited for you to read it.
> 
> Also, I really want to expand on the straight up evilness of TWSITD in this story. I don't like that they are a half-assed enemy in the game when they are supposed to be the people responsible for so many atrocities. I pulled the half-formed Demonic Beasts thing from another fic I've been writing, but it's basically TWSITD trying to find a way to create the Demonic Beasts without wasting Crest Stone fragments. They have some left from the massacre in the Red Canyon, but what they have isn't infinite and this war is taking far longer than they thought. Also Hrym is... well, we all know what is near Hrym. If you don't I'm not going to tell you.
> 
> Also... I'm sorry if you are an Edelstan... cause this ain't your fic if you are. I don't hate her, per say, but this fic sure does. But it's a Blue Lions fic, so hopefully ya'll knew that before you started.


	29. You Put Your Arms Around Me, And I Believe That It's Easier For You To Let Me Go

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Chapter Title pulled from Christina Perri's "arms" Basically Byleth's theme song for the last few chapters, and the next few to come. 
> 
> Felix struggles with the emotions stirred by Byleth's reckless efforts to save Ferdinand. He and Sylvain have an important conversation, but an unexpected arrival puts another wrench in things.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I decided to post this chapter a few days early because I need something to take my mind off of how DONE I am with the state of things right now. *sigh* 
> 
> Anyway, I hope you guys like this one!

~Felix~

“You’re going to hate me for this.” He looked to Byleth in confusion, only to watch as she took off ahead of him, far faster than he could run. Dorothea and Bernadetta called out to her, and even looked to him as if to ask what was going on, but he had absolutely no clue.

He tried to race after her, only to watch in horror as she dropped the Sword of the Creator and continued running toward Ferdinand with a shout of, “I don’t want to kill you!” Against his better judgement, he froze up, stuck watching as she barely managed to duck past the jab of Ferdinand’s lance and cut the bindings of the saddle with her dagger, causing Ferdinand to tip over. The horse let loose a panicked bray as it raised onto its back legs and Ferdinand fell to the ground. 

Bernadetta had pulled her horse to a stop just in front of him, and Bernadetta and Dorothea were also watching with horrified faces as Byleth stomped on Ferdinand’s shoulder and knocked him out with a quick strike from the butt of her dagger. 

“What the fuck was that?!” 

She panted, “He wasn’t going to surrender. I had to.” Her skin was pale, and as she stood, her chest heaved as she tried to take in each breath. She looked absolutely exhausted. How many times did she try to talk him out of attacking before giving up and taking matters into her own hands? And more importantly, how in the hell could she be that reckless over one guy! 

“You don’t know that!” Dorothea cried, looking in horror at Ferdinand unconscious form. Without knowing what had actually happened, it probably looked like Byleth had just been especially brutal without even giving Ferdinand a chance to surrender. 

“He’s alive. We’ll give him the option to surrender or die when he can’t hurt anyone else.” She was still panting, but she walked over and dipped down to grab the Sword of the Creator like she was going to keep moving like nothing happened. 

He grabbed her arm and pulled her against his chest as he hissed, “Never again. Do you hear me?” What the hell was she thinking, pulling that stunt? What if she had failed? What if she had been hurt? What if she had died?! Was she even thinking?! 

She placed a hand over his own, but didn’t have the chance to say anything. “Professor!” They both looked up to see Ingrid calling down to her from her pegasus. “Lorenz is on the bridge with reinforcements!”

Byleth hissed, “Fuck.” He watched her as she evaluated their surroundings, likely checking on their forces. His heart was still beating out of his chest from almost watching her _die_. She called out, “Try to keep Dimitri away!” Then she looked to Dorothea and Bernadetta as she ordered, “Stay with Ferdinand. If he wakes…” she paused, her eyebrows pulling together at the center, “Don’t let him kill you.” A chill went down his spine, but he didn’t have a second to ponder what might have happened.

Byleth raced off again—how she had the energy to do so, he couldn’t fathom—and he ran after her, though his muscles were protesting from all of the energy he had exerted in an effort to keep pace with her thus far. He could see Leonie on her horse just ahead, though it seemed that Lorenz hadn’t called for his soldiers to attack the mercenary-turned-bow knight just yet. Leonie stopped at the end of the drawbridge, and he and Byleth ran up behind her as she pulled a scrap of cloth from her pocket and tied it to the end of her lance.

Her tone held a false levity as she called, “Lorenz! I wondered if I’d see you here!”

“Leonie…” Lorenz fiddled nervously with his lance as his horse stomped its feet. He could already tell the pompous noble lacked the guts necessary to charge against Leonie and Byleth, though the same could not be said for the knights behind him, who still looked ready to attack at a moment’s notice. “What are you doing here?!” 

Lorenz finally spotted Byleth and his eyes blew wide. Had he not even known she was alive, yet? “Professor?! It… It has been a while. If this were anywhere but the battlefield, I would offer you some tea. However, I’ve no choice but to follow the Empire if I wish to live. I hope you will not think ill of me.”

Byleth firmly called, “You don’t have to fight for them, Lorenz. Fight with us. We’ll end Edelgard’s conquest together!”

“I…” Lorenz gaped like a fish, unable to say anything. It didn’t look like this was going to take a fight, so he eased his grip on his sword somewhat, and released a breath he wasn’t aware he’d been holding, still wound up from Byleth’s earlier recklessness.

Seeing his hesitation, Leonie called out, “I have your handkerchief, Lorenz. I’m giving it back to you either way, but I’d really rather you just made the right decision here.” Lorenz’s eyes tracked to the fabric at the end before softening considerably. Goddess, he could gag at the romantic tone of all of this. Leonie and that guy? Seriously? What the hell? “Come on, Lorenz. You know this war isn’t right. Your people are suffering, but we can help them together.”

Byleth nodded. “The Bridge is already ours, Lorenz. Surrender, and I’ll spare you and your men.”

“But… to abandon House Gloucester…” The faltering ended and Lorenz called back with a pompous grin, “No—I can convince my father. I will help you topple the Empire, I swear it!”

One of the soldiers behind the purple-haired noble hesitantly asked, “My Lord?”

Lorenz ordered his men, “Drop your weapons! I have faith they will not harm us.”

“It’s a farce, all of it.” Byleth startled and they both turned around to find the boar glowering down at her. 

She sheathed the Sword of the Creator as she firmly said, “We’ve taken the Bridge. That is enough.” 

The boar looked as though he was opening his mouth to spit out a retort, before a deep voice called, “Your Highness…” The lone blue eye the boar still had blew wide as they all turned to look at who had called.

Byleth’s eyes filled with tears as she spotted Dedue—the boar’s supposed lapdog—standing at the other end of the drawbridge. Alive. He wasn’t sure whether it was the adrenaline from the battle fading, or the overwhelming happiness that openly showed on her features, but she swayed as if she might fall over, and he lunged forward to grab her arm and hold her steady. _Damnable woman._

The boar trembled like a leaf where he stood, staring at Dedue with a look somewhere between horror and disbelief. Dedue began to stride forward, his heavily armored footsteps thudding against the wood of the drawbridge. When he had closed the distance between them, the boar reached out a hesitant hand, but eventually dropped it back to his side. 

Byleth pushed off his arm and he protested, but she smiled a little and nodded like everything was going to be fine even though she was obviously not fine. He watched her carefully as she walked toward the boar and softly said, “He’s here, Dimitri. I see him, too.” Dedue’s eyes widened somewhat at the sight of Byleth—apparently, he hadn’t known she was alive, either.

“Dedue! Why… How are you here? You died. Five years ago…”

Dedue’s voice was lower now than it had been at the Academy. “I was saved by my brothers… Men of Duscur.”

“Look what we have here… the woman with the sword like fire is alive!” Felix placed an instinctual hand on his sword at the sight of an unfamiliar face, but stopped when Byleth didn’t move to defend herself. Who was that guy? Sword like fire? Was he talking about the Sword of the Creator?

The boar stammered, “You… you saved him?”

The dark-skinned man nodded before replying, “The people of Duscur never forget their grudges, Prince of Faerghus, nor do they fail to honor a favor.” The boar was nearly vibrating with emotion as the man turned to Dedue and said something in what was probably the language of Duscur and walked off toward a group of other fighters a few yards away.

Byleth and the boar only had eyes for Dedue as he said, “Your Highness… I asked that you fulfill your long-held desire, did I not? Allow me to once again act as your sword and shield. Please, let me witness your triumph. I want to behold the moment when your wish is finally granted.” Rage flared, making his jaw tighten to the point where it was painful. He just… comes back? And he’s still willing to risk his life for the beast in front of them? Seriously? After they all thought him dead? After all that he probably went through for the sake of the boar?

“Dedue…” The boar stumbled forward and pulled his lapdog into an embrace. “Of course. And in exchange, I ask that you swear something to me, here and now. Do not ever throw your life away again. Understood?”

“Your Highness…” Dedue’s arms were still at his sides as the boar clung to him, until he returned the embrace and solemnly answered, “Understood.”

He stepped to Byleth’s side, still watching the nonsense in front of him. “Never again,” he whispered, shifting his gaze to look at her. “You aren’t allowed to risk your life in a reckless move like that ever again.”

Her eyes filled with sadness as she whispered, “I can’t promise that, Felix. You know I can’t,” making the rage flare even more as he clenched his hands into tight fists. 

“What are the rest of us supposed to do when you charge forward, drop your fucking sword, and die trying to save Ferdinand von fucking Aegir?!” He turned his whole body to face her, trying to keep his voice low so as not to cause a scene, but failing because this woman was quite literally driving him to the brink of insanity. “What am I supposed to do when I watch you get skewered by someone’s lance? When you die for someone else instead of being here, with me, where I _need_ you?!” 

Why was she acting like this? Was she in such a rush to get hurt again? To leave them as she had during the fall of the monastery? She was so adamant about saving everyone else, but she was so willing to throw herself into every bit of danger she could find and he was so sick of it! He couldn’t do this. He couldn’t continue to stand by if she was going to throw herself away like Glenn did. He wouldn’t survive losing her again.

She made that face, the one that always made him crumble, and whimpered, “Fe…” in the way that always made him break, but he couldn’t do it. Not this time.

He stepped closer as he lowly hissed, “Don’t _Fe_ , me! You want to push me away, you want to be alone, you want to pull reckless stunts?” He opened his mouth to say he was done, but he couldn’t get the words out. As much as it hurt him, he knew he couldn’t walk away. He had promised to protect her, and… he cared too damned much to leave her alone. 

Fuck him! Fuck her! Why couldn’t he stop this?

She grabbed his hand and pulled it to her chest. “Felix… I’m sorry. I… I need you. Of course, I do…”

His voice cracked, as he pleaded, “Then tell me you’re going to stop. Tell me you’re going to keep yourself safe!” Obviously, his own efforts were insufficient. He wanted so badly to keep her safe, but what was he? She was blessed by the goddess, capable of things that he would never be able to do. He was weak. He was insufficient. He was inconsequential in the face of everything in Byleth’s life. He was nothing.

“I need to keep _everyone_ safe, Fe… I don’t—" He turned and walked toward where Leonie and some of the Knights of Seiros were binding what remained of Lorenz and Ferdinand’s men, unable to listen to any more of this. Unable to look at her when she was making that face. All he wanted was for her to be safe. If he felt it was within the realm of possibility, he’d stuff her in a freaking chest and steal her away from all of this. Grab Sylvain, find some cabin in the middle of nowhere and never come in contact with any of these dark mages or ancient Saints that are a thousand years old and have the ability to stop someone’s heartbeat ever again. Screw this war. In fact, to the Eternal Flames with the whole world. All he needed was Sylvain and Byleth.

 _Fuck_.

He glanced around in an effort to find Sylvain, only to find him smiling that sunshine smile as he draped an arm over Dedue’s shoulders, joyfully watching as the rest of the Lions fawning over the much larger Duscur man. He didn’t want to make that sunshine smile fade, but he knew it would if he went to Sylvain when he was feeling like this. Somehow, that thought made him feel even worse.

“You okay, Felix?” He turned to glance at Leonie, who had bound Lorenz’s wrists and was looking at him in obvious concern. 

“I’m fine,” he gritted out through clenched teeth. “I’m going to check inside and make sure there’s no more surprises.”

“There are likely a few service members in the upper floors,” Lorenz informed him, looking far too prim and proper even with his bindings. “Please, do not harm them.”

He scoffed, “You think I’m going to hurt innocent civilians?”

“Honestly?” Leonie lifted an eyebrow and glanced him over, “You look like you’re still itching for a fight. Why don’t you go cool off somewhere? We got it from here.” 

He huffed in response and stalked down the walkway that had been cleared by the Knights of Seiros already, and walked up the stairs that led to the ballista. When he reached the top, he glanced around the area, habit making him check for potential threats, before he released a heavy exhale and tried to calm down. 

He was so scared all the time, now. He had spent so many years locking away that fear, but with everything that was happening, he couldn’t push it down any longer. He felt like he was that little kid again, always running after Byleth, always wanting her attention, always wanting to hold her damn hand. What was he expecting from her? He was going to tell her he needed her, and she was going to just… what? Give up on the rest of Fodlan? Give up on the other Lions? He admired that she was a fierce warrior, a fierce protector. Hell, it was one of the things that had drawn him to her in the first place. She may have changed a lot over the years—her hair, her eyes, her ability to feel and show emotion—but she was still that same girl that was willing to risk it all for Sylvain without even knowing him.

The real problem was that he was pretty sure he loved her… and he was pretty sure it was driving him _crazy_. There was no point in trying to tell himself he didn’t anymore, not with the way it felt like his whole world was in jeopardy watching her pull that stunt just now. He wouldn’t survive losing her again, and all he needed in this world was her and Sylvain. He may be dense when it comes to acknowledging his feelings, but even he knew what that meant.

He also knew he was fucked.

“Hey…” He turned to watch as Sylvain walked up the stairs toward him, the residue of the smile Dedue’s presence had earned fading as he got closer. “Leonie said you were up here.”

He barked, “I don’t need to be fucking looked after.” Sylvain stopped walking toward him, and he sighed as he tried to shake off his ornery mood. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean that.”

“I know.” Sylvain came to stand beside him, looking over the bridge with honey eyes. “I can’t believe we just took control of the Great Bridge of Myrddin. Isn’t it crazy? All of this is real!” He hummed in acknowledgement, watching as Byleth and the boar stood near the edge of the bridge, talking. Noticing that he wasn’t going to be distracted from his brooding, Sylvain quietly prodded, “Did something happen?”

“Byleth pulled her usual self-sacrificing bullshit right in front of me—dropped her sword and everything. To save Ferdinand von fucking Aegir!” 

Sylvain repeated, “Ferdinand von fucking Aegir…” A small chuckle escaped him before he nodded. “Yup, that’s fun to say.” He bristled and Sylvain sighed before placing his hands on his shoulders and trying to meet his gaze. “I know you are worried about her, and I’m sorry that happened.”

He groaned, “I’m sick of being worried, all the time.”

“I know…” 

“Remember when you asked me if I ever wanted to just run away? Find a place in the woods or something and just be?”

He could see the tenderness in Sylvain’s eyes as he quietly answered, “Of course, I do.”

“I just want to… throw her in a chest or something and go somewhere, just the three of us. Screw all of this.” Sylvain chuckled faintly and nodded. They were too exposed up here for it, but he could tell Sylvain wanted to touch him—like, really touch him. He knew Sylvain shouldn’t, but he kind of wanted him to, anyway. “She’d probably hate me, huh?”

Sylvain frowned as he whispered, “Probably.” 

“Between secret dark mages and a crazy centuries old dragon archbishop I just… I feel like nothing. I hate that. What am I even doing? I can’t protect her. She’s been protecting me this whole time!”

“You aren’t nothing,” Sylvain admonished.

“You saw her in the Sealed Forest! I mean… what the hell was that?! I can’t compete with that!”

“It’s not about competing, my competitive swordsman,” Sylvain laughed at his resulting face of displeasure. “It’s about being there when she needs you—needs us. It’s okay to be worried or be upset that she’s doing those things. It’s okay to be scared. I was terrified watching the two of you charge into battle today…” He grasped at the stupid sash Sylvain wore around his hips and nodded. “But… now we’re here. We're safe.” He leaned down to whisper, “And now I’m going to take you up to our room that we’re apparently sharing, and we’re going to take a bath together. Alright?”

Heat rushed to his cheeks, making Sylvain laugh at him with a look that was overly fond. He elbowed him lightly before grunting out, “Fine.”

He and the other Lions—both original and honorary—were given some of the quarters that were normally reserved for higher ranked officers. However, there weren’t enough apartments for everyone to have their own, which meant he and Sylvain had an excuse to sleep in a nice bed together. Sylvain dragged him up to the room and they got cleaned up together, taking their time in the nice quarters as he was actively not thinking about who might have stayed here prior to them. 

When they were finished cleaning up and redressing, Sylvain kissed him deeply before saying, “I’m going to go and check on By, alright? Do you want to come?” He shook his head. He was still wound up and he wasn’t ready to see her after their conversation earlier, so he decided to stay in their quarters to maintain their weapons and armor.

Less than an hour later, Sylvain was back. The redhead slammed the door behind him—making him jump to his feet instinctively—and leaned against the wood with a heavy exhale as he ran a hand down his face. 

He griped, “What the hell?” as he safely resheathed his blade and propped it against the side table.

“Sorry.” Sylvain pushed away from the door and walked over to land face down on the mattress with a groan.

Worry spiked as he asked, “Is she… okay?”

The redhead’s answering, “She’s sleeping,” was muffled by the pillow his face was currently buried in. He wasn’t sure he’d ever seen Sylvain act this way, and it had him even more on edge than he already was.

He prodded, “Sleeping?” Wanting more information for why he was acting strange.

Sylvain raised his head and propped it up on his elbow as he further explained, “Yuri took Byleth and Ferdinand down to the prisons and whatever is down there… it made her all… sick.” His eyebrows furrowed as a small frown curled his lips.

He leapt to his feet again and turned to look at the redhead as he asked, “Sick?”

“Like… remember the month before Remire?”

Of course, he remembered the month before Remire. He remembered finding her loopy in Claude’s arms because he had to carry her into her room, and the fact that she could barely see straight. “Is she okay?!”

“Mercedes checked her over and said it was just fatigue from the battle. She’s keeping an eye on her just in case.”

“And you just _left_?!” 

He turned toward the door, set on heading to whichever room Byleth was in, but Sylvain called out, “Umm… I wouldn’t. Just leave her with Mercie.”

He turned back and sharply asked, “Why are you being weird?” He was done beating around the bush. Byleth was ill, Sylvain was acting strangely, and he was too wound up to continue like this.

“Umm… well… I just…” Sylvain ran a hand through his hair and groaned, “This is going to sound dumb but if I don’t tell you I’m going to feel shitty about it.”

Suspicion tinted his tone as he asked, “Don’t tell me about what?” as he stepped closer.

Sylvain looked down at the bed as he stammered, “Well… I left Byleth in her room while I went to get Mercedes, and she wasn’t answering when we got back to the room. I was worried, so we both rushed in, and basically I saw her in the bath and I’m sorry. I didn’t see everything, but it was definitely enough, and… and I’m sorry!”

His cheeks warmed as his collar became far too constricting, but he shoved the feeling in his gut into that locked chest in the back of his mind where he normally shoved those types of Byleth things. “That’s what you’re focused on right now?” He huffed an incredulous chuckle and shook his head, causing Sylvain to look up at him. “You saw Byleth naked so now you’re going to just forget that there is something in the prison that was enough to make her _ill_?!”

Sylvain pouted a little as he slowly got to his feet. “I was worried you were going to be mad.”

He raised his eyebrow, hoping his cheeks weren’t red enough to be incriminating. “Mad at you seeing the woman who’s a former mercenary and has little to no sense of modesty, naked?” Heaven knows she was barely decent during the nights they’d slept in her room, and they’d both seen her in just a towel plenty of times. 

_Okay… not helping yourself, idiot._

“It’s not like I meant to, I just…” Sylvain gave his head a good shake and walked toward him. “Okay, I’m not going to talk about it anymore.” Sylvain grabbed him and pulled him into a kiss that was enough to make his head spin. If he wasn’t so distracted by his worry for Byleth, he’d probably allow Sylvain to push this further. 

After he pulled back, the dope added, “I’m assuming we’re going down to the prisons?”

He scoffed, “Of course, we are.”

Sylvain kissed him on the forehead and murmured, “Right.”

Sylvain led him back toward where he had found Byleth, only to find his father, of all people, speaking with a group of heavily armored knights that stood in front of the closed doors that he assumed led into the prisons.

When his father spotted them, he asked, “What are you two doing down here?” 

He narrowed his eyes and countered, “What are you doing down here?”

The old man sighed, “Making sure no one enters this area until we can have Hanneman travel out and assess what exactly transpired here.”

“What’s in there?” he prodded, but Rodrigue shook his head fervently.

“You don’t want to know, my son.”

“That’s what By said,” Sylvain quietly commented.

“Well, she was correct.” The grimace on his father’s features was telling, but that wouldn’t stop him. Rodrigue seemed to physically shake off the discomfort he was feeling before addressing Sylvain. “Yuri informed me that you had to carry Byleth out of here. Is she feeling any better? Should we move the war council meeting to tomorrow morning so she can recover?”

Sylvain rubbed at the back of his neck as he answered, “I’m not sure. She told me she used a lot of magic during the battle, so I’m hoping that’s all it was. She’s asleep now, but you can probably ask her about the meeting when she wakes up.”

His father’s eyebrows furrowed in concern before he turned to ask him, “Does she really use that much magic, son? You fight beside her, perhaps there is—”

He abruptly answered, “She does. Now show us what’s in there.” The last thing they needed was his father asking too many questions. 

The old man sighed and nodded to the guards, who pushed open the doors as his father quietly explained, “The Empire is experimenting on their own soldiers. Yuri suspects that they are trying to find a way to create them without the use of a fragment of a Crest Stone.”

They entered, and he looked into the cells only to immediately turn away in disgust and horror. The bodies of soldiers were distorted, somewhere half way between human and demonic beasts. They lacked the telltale red glowing point that other demonic beasts did, but some had claws, others scales, or contorted limbs. The smell of death and rot assaulted his nostrils, causing bile to burn in his throat as he brought a sleeve up in an attempt to lessen the effect. 

“I can’t… be here…” Sylvain stared around wide-eyed, his face pale and his breathing rapid, before bolting out of the prisons. 

His father looked after the panicking redhead in concern and he hurriedly explained, “Miklan,” as he rushed after Sylvain. He had told his father everything that happened with Sylvain’s older brother when they returned to Fraldarius, and his father had been horrified. It seemed that he had no idea that such a thing could happen. 

He found Sylvain up the next flight of stairs, facing the wall as he tried to steady his breathing. His knuckles were white where he had his hands braced against the cool stone, and his chest was heaving with each shallow breath. He rubbed slow circles into Sylvain’s back, unsure of what else to do. He knew Sylvain still had nightmares about Miklan turning into that massive Demonic Beast, so he could only imagine how it was affecting him to see the transformations that had been happening on the battlefield lately.

Sylvain eventually slowed his breathing and turned with a somewhat panted, “Sorry.”

He frowned. “You don’t have anything to apologize for. Are you okay?”

Footsteps echoed behind them, and Sylvain looked over his shoulder as he weakly asked, “Who does that to their own soldiers?”

He turned to see his father slowly approaching them. Rodrigue grimaced as he said, “The emperor apparently… though young von Aegir was obviously very disturbed by all of this. It seems he had no idea they were experimenting on their own people below his very nose.”

He derisively scoffed, “So, he’s fine with them turning people into demonic beasts, but not them failing to completely turn them into demonic beasts? That makes no sense.” He’s fighting for the people responsible for all of this, but Byleth was still ready to risk her own damn neck for him? _Damnable woman._

“I’m not certain what he believes, exactly. Byleth was adamant that he is being held prisoner by the Church of Seiros, so I have not spoken with him without her present.”

He grumpily commented, “Probably because the boar tortured his last war prisoner.”

“Nonsense,” his father protested, turning to stare at him in abject horror.

“Not nonsense,” he snapped back, anger flaring in his chest yet again. “He took General Bergliez prisoner after the Empire attempted to take back control of the monastery. The beast slammed Byleth into a wall when she killed the guy, rather than watch him be tortured. I’m pretty sure that’s the same attack against Byleth when he also said he was going to use all of us until the flesh falls from our bones.” He looked to Sylvain in faux contemplation and asked, “Or was that the time he choked her?” He hadn’t forgiven his father for the stunt he pulled this morning with having the boar call the charge when Byleth is the one who planned every little detail of the attack. His father didn’t even know who—or what—he had on that goddess damned pedestal of his.

His father’s eyes blew even wider as he breathed, “Slammed…”

He spat, “Ask Gustave if you don’t believe me. Sylvain and I are going to check on Byleth.” He ran ahead, listening to Sylvain’s footsteps follow him until they had left his father behind and reached the outside again.

He took in deep breaths of the fresh air, trying to calm himself down from the outburst. It seemed it was going to be one thing after another today. Sylvain lightly held his arm as he asked, “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine. I just… need to make sure she’s okay. Are you okay?”

Red curls flopped onto his forehead as Sylvain nodded, though the pinched look on his face told him that he hadn't completely shaken his earlier panic just yet. He pursed his lips before commenting, “By said she could feel dark magic down there… Did you feel anything?”

He shook his head. “She said something like that in Aillel, too. Maybe it’s just another thing she can do because of… you know.”

Sylvain sighed, “Maybe…” as he ran a hand through his hair. 

Sylvain nodded to the knights standing guard at Byleth’s room, before tapping lightly on the door. Mercedes opened it for them with a small smile, and Byleth bolted up to sitting as she grabbed her dagger, looking thoroughly disoriented. Sylvain walked toward her and soothed, “Hey, it’s just us.” She glanced around with hazy eyes for a moment before she laid back down with a yawn. 

Mercedes whispered, “If you two are going to be here, I’m going to go and check in with Dedue.” Sylvain smiled as he nodded toward the door, and she waved goodbye before walking out. He closed and locked the door behind them and Byleth blearily blinked open her eyes to look at him, looking rather like a sleepy cat. How she could go from fierce warrior to this never ceased to amaze him.

She groggily whispered, “I’m sorry about earlier.” 

He walked over to stand next to the bed as he asked, “Do you feel any better?” He wasn’t ready to talk about what happened with Ferdinand just yet. He was worried about her, so he was checking on her. Nothing more.

“Still tired.” She looked like she might drift off to sleep again until she bolted back to sitting as she asked, “Where is Ferdinand? Is he alright?”

Sylvain answered, “The last I heard he was being held in the infirmary on this floor.”

“And the prisons?”

He chimed in, “My father has them under guard. They want to have Hanneman travel out and figure out what they were doing down there.”

“No! That’s… No.” She threw her legs over the side of the bed and stood, putting her hand to her head as she violently swayed to the right, the only thing keeping her from falling over being Sylvain’s arm that snaked around her waist to keep her steady.

“You’re still not feeling good.” He hated the way his tone sounded accusing.

“I’m fine,” She attempted to wave him off, but he crossed his arms and prepared himself to die on this hill. If he couldn’t protect her in battle, he was certainly going to get her to lie down for a while. She could see it—because of course she could—and she wearily sighed, “I need to check on Ferdinand, and then I need to talk to Yuri and Rodrigue,” as her shoulders drooped in a way that portrayed _“are we really going to do this now?”._

Sylvain pleaded, “Lay back down, By. You can barely stand right now.”

She clenched her hands into fists and placed them on both sides of her head as she insisted, “You guys don’t get it!”

He snapped, “Then why don’t you fill us, damn it? All I can see is that you’re exhausted, and not feeling well. You _need_ to take care of yourself. I'm not afraid to force you if I have to!” 

She shook her head with a groaned, “I can’t deal with this right now. I need to go.”

“Can’t deal with what?” he countered, stepping in front of her as she made her way to the door. 

“You!” She poked a finger into his chest before gesturing vaguely to the room, “This!”

“I wasn’t aware that Sylvain and I being worried about your health was something that needed to be _dealt with_ ,” he snarled, watching out of the corner of his eye as Sylvain stood from the bed and walked over to stand beside them.

Sylvain rested a hand on his shoulder as he coaxed, “Okay, you two need to breathe.”

He ignored Sylvain and exaggeratedly said, “Well, if we’re something that has to be dealt with, maybe we should just leave.”

Sylvain wearily sighed, “Felix…” but stopped to whirl on Byleth as she dejectedly said, “Maybe you should. It would probably make things easier for all of us, anyway.” It sort of felt like someone had reached into his chest cavity, wrapped their hand around his heart, and threatened to pull it out.

“Hey… wait…” Sylvain reached out a hand to grab hers, but she shied away with a mumbled, “ _Please, don’t._ ”

She turned away to straighten out the sheets on the bed, or rather to not look at them as she said, “You guys worry about me all of the time anyway, so maybe you should just leave me alone for a while.” She might as well have used that random new ability of hers to summon an invisible barrier between them, what with the way her shoulders straightened as she turned to look back at them with an unreadable expression. Though, he supposed the wall between them had gone up weeks ago, it just hadn’t been as readily apparent as it was in this moment.

His tongue felt heavy in his mouth, and his feet felt like they were stuck to the floor as she looked from him, to Sylvain, and then back to him with those brilliant green eyes, the color of spring and life itself. Though it didn’t feel as such when she looked at him that way. She curtly announced, “I have things I need to do.” Sylvain made a noise that might have been an attempt at a word, but it cut off as Byleth rushed to the door, opened it, and ran out without a second glance.

As soon as the door shut behind her, Sylvain fell to the floor like he was a puppet who’d had his strings cut. He fell to his knees, slumped against the bed, and then turned to sit with his knees tucked to his chest, his face a crumpled mixture of too many emotions for him to parse out. Honey eyes stared unseeing at the carpet beneath him, and left with no other reasonable course of action, he forced his feet to move until he could join the redhead on the floor.

“I love her,” Sylvain quietly admitted, his voice wavering as he continued to stare at the floor. “I love her, and I love you… so much that it just… consumes me. Every fiber, every inch of me.” Honey eyes were pleading as they lifted to meet his and Sylvain reached out to lightly cupped his jaw. “I’m so happy with you. I don’t want you to think I’m not.”

“I know,” he mumbled, heat rising in his cheeks from the abashedly adoring look in Sylvain’s eye. “I… I do, too. Both of you.” He still couldn’t say the damned words aloud, but he could at least admit it if Sylvain was going to. It didn’t take much to see that Sylvain was tearing himself up over it, and he didn’t want that for one of the people he cared most for. 

He wasn’t sure he’d ever seen Sylvain’s smile shine quite as brightly as it did in that moment, though it dimmed as the hold on his jaw went slack. Determination settled in honey eyes as he said, “I want to tell her.” 

He clicked his tongue and tried to look away, but Sylvain resumed the hold on his jaw to force eye contact. “She literally just told us to leave her alone.”

“She’s been… different lately. I don’t know why. Something’s just… off.”

He scoffed, “I’m aware.”

“What if it makes things better? What if she feels the same?” The sheer hopefulness in Sylvain’s tone made his chest ache.

He shook his head what little he could with Sylvain’s steady hold of his jaw. “What if it makes things that much worse because she doesn’t? She thinks we’re something to be dealt with, Syl. I don’t know what it is you think is going to happen.”

“If she says yes, we could be together.” Sylvain was nodding fervently, like he was trying to convince him and the universe itself. Like by speaking these words aloud, he could bring this impossibility into existence.

He, however, remained unconvinced. “Is that even an _option_? The three of us? How on in the hell would that even work?” Sylvain’s eyebrow wiggled suggestively as his fingertips left his jaw to trail down the sensitive skin of his throat, but he swatted Sylvain’s wandering hand away before it could venture anywhere troublesome. He clicked his tongue before griping, “Not sexually, you insatiable bastard.”

Sylvain’s voice took on that low purr that always secretly made his heart race as he whispered directly in his ear, “You’ve thought about it then? Me… her…”

He pushed back on with a hand on the redhead’s broad chest, his glare venomous as he hissed, “Sylvain, I’m being serious.” Sylvain was likely trying to distract him, or trying to lessen the anxiety by making it sexual, but this was so much more than that. This was Byleth… and them. This was… _a lot_ to process. 

“I know…” he pouted, heaving a sigh as he laid his head back against the mattress behind them, running his fingers through his crimson mop. “I don’t know how it would work, but… you feel the same, so…”

He firmly reminded him, “That doesn’t mean she does.”

“Must you always be so pessimistic?”

“Pragmatic,” he countered. “If we tell her and she doesn’t feel the same, we make things even worse, and she loses two people she relies on.”

Sylvain frowned. Genuinely, not a playful pout, looking offended by the mere implication of his words. “She wouldn’t lose us.”

“She might feel like it, and can we really risk that with everything that she’s going through right now?” Sylvain opened his mouth, probably to deny it, but then shut it again with a thoughtful furrow in his brow. “She’s already struggling as it is. Some _romantic gesture_ from the two of us hardly seems like the way to fix things.”

Naturally, Sylvain teased, “Romantic gesture, huh? Are you capable of those?”

He gruffly answered, “No.” He intertwined his fingers with Sylvain’s and laid his head on the taller man’s shoulder, and Sylvain nestled his head against his own.

After a moment of silence, Sylvain whispered, “What are we going to do?”

He sighed as he answered, “I don’t know.”

~Byleth~

She tried to keep her feelings in check as she stormed out of the room, but it was hard to do when it felt like she couldn’t breathe. She shouldn’t have said that. She shouldn’t have done that. She knew that they cared about her and just wanted to look out for her, but it felt like they were both worrying over her every moment of every day. She couldn’t keep seeing them like that, couldn’t keep spending all of this time with them, if she was going to keep feeling these... _feelings_.

Felix saying that he needed her, Sylvain trying to take care of her… it was all too much. She needed some space to clear her head, to figure out what she was going to do about… well… everything. She had a war to plan, dark and twisted experimentation to put a stop to. She couldn’t sit around pondering her feelings for her dearest friends who were already in love with each other.

She opened the guarded infirmary door with far more force than was necessary, startling both Yuri and Ferdinand and surprisingly…

“Constance? What are you doing in here?”

“Ah! Lady Byleth!” Constance stood from where she had been seated across from Ferdinand and turned to face her, as the ginger noble turned his face away. “Forgive me for not coming to you sooner, but Ferdinand was once a dear friend of mine. However, I see no traces of that pleasant boy in this “noblest of nobles”. As such, I will now be taking my leave.” Constance bowed slightly to her before leaving the room in a huff. She looked to Yuri who shrugged.

_Okay…?_

“Ferdinand?” He would not meet her gaze, instead he curled against the table somewhat as his hair created an auburn curtain between himself and her. “I’ve brought tea. Would you like some?” He hesitantly turned to look at her, and then slowly nodded. “Why don’t you go and take a moment to get cleaned up, Yuri. I’ll take it from here.” 

Yuri’s eyes took a moment to evaluate her before he smoothly stood and walked toward the door. He lightly touched her arm as he whispered, “I’m sending Balthus in to watch over you. Don’t drop your guard just because you know him.”

“I’m well aware,” she countered, insulted that he would think her foolish enough to let him get the best of her.

“I have to make sure with little Miss Bleeding Heart here.” He chuckled at her disgruntled features. She didn’t even have a heart, let alone a bleeding one. His voice became softer as he said, “I wish you would have rested longer. You had me worried back there.”

“There are things to be done, Yuri. I need to discuss the status in Gloucester with you and Shamir when you are finished getting cleaned up. Not to mention we need to discuss the matter of what you found in the prisons.”

“Understood,” Yuri nodded. “I’ll be quick then, I suppose.” 

After Yuri left, there was awkward silence as she moved to the tea table and prepared their tea, only to be broken when Ferdinand hesitantly asked, “Are you feeling quite well, Professor? I had never seen you in such a state.”

Now she had her supposed prisoners asking after her well-being? She knew she shouldn’t feel irritated with him, she only had herself to blame for her current mood, however she curtly responded, “I’m sorry if I worried you. I’m perfectly fine now.” Ferdinand’s eyes dropped to the table and she sighed as she reached across to lightly touch his hand. “Are you alright, Ferdinand?”

“Am I alright?” He released a broken chuckle before shaking his head. “I find myself a war prisoner held captive by my former professor. Though I do not suffer shackles or a prison cell, only an overflow of information that highlights the wide gaps within my knowledge and my own grievous failures.”

She felt a frown pull at her lips as she said, “I shouldn’t have taken you down to the prison cells without knowing what was down there.”

“I am… terribly confused.” The genuine distress written on Ferdinand’s features pulled at her chest. “I knew of none of this; not of the experimentation that my soldiers were undergoing, not of the status of Hrym, and not of the atrocities that Edelgard’s allies have committed. I feel as if I have been acting as a pawn in a game I failed to realize was even being played.”

“Can I ask you a question, Ferdinand?” He looked up to meet her gaze as he hesitantly nodded. “What happened when you left the monastery five years ago?”

He began, “Petra was distressed by her precarious situation—”

That reminded her of another important issue. “I’m sorry to interrupt, but is Petra alright?”

“Yes, yes,” Ferdinand sighed, though he looked rather weary. “The last I heard, she and her battalion of Brigid warriors were acting as guards for Her Majesty. Though I haven’t been to Enbarr in some time.” He took a sip of his tea and then frowned. “You must understand, Professor, I went to Edelgard because I was foolish enough to believe I could sway her. However, it was I that found myself swayed. She spoke so passionately of her plan to dismantle the tainted Crest System, to allow those of common birth and former nobility to rise on the basis of merit, not on birth alone. I thought that such a world would be better for those that I watched over in Aegir territory, but…”

His eyes became dark as he trailed off and took another sip of his tea. “Obviously I failed to realize the cost of such things. I failed to realize what Edelgard was willing to do to obtain this dream of hers. And…” his eyes glistened as he placed his cup back on his saucer with a trembling hand, “… and I believed the words of a man who was not being honest with me.”

“Hubert,” she whispered.

Ferdinand’s hands clenched into fists on the table top as he tilted his face slightly away. He quietly admitted, “I do not know that he will even come for me. It is obvious that he was merely using me, just as Edelgard was. How I’ve allowed myself to be so very foolish, I cannot fathom.”

She took his hand in her own as she attempted to console him. “You are young, Ferdinand. All of you are. None of you should have been required to make the decisions and sacrifices that you have been forced into. I am deeply sorry that all of this happened.”

“Where were you?” he asked in a voice wavering with emotion. His eyes were red-rimmed when he turned to face her once more. “How is it you look the very same as the day of Edelgard’s attack on the Holy Tomb?”

She pulled back her hand to sip her tea as she considered what she wished to tell him. He wasn’t sworn to their cause yet, and there was still the very real possibility of Hubert or someone else coming to take him back to Enbarr. Anything she said could make it all the way to Edelgard’s ears. She settled on, “You were there that day… in the Sealed Forest.”

Ferdinand nodded, his auburn hair tousling at the action. “When you cut a hole in the sky itself.”

“Yes… well… my connection with the goddess goes deeper than just a simple blessing.” She took another sip of her tea as Ferdinand looked at her curiously. “Through the power Sothis granted me, I survived a fall into the ravine below the monastery, but I fell into some sort of restorative slumber for nearly five years. I awoke on the day that should have been the Millennium Festival to find that all of this time had passed, and all of Fodlan was at war.”

With a face full of awe he stammered, “How… How is such a thing possible?”

She chuckled dryly. “I am not certain, myself. Even I find that I am still struggling to wrap my mind around it. All of my students are now adults, grown and hardened from a war that I haven’t been around to fight for them.” She closed her eyes for a moment, trying to hold back the flood of emotion the conversation brought up. When she opened them, she reached out to take Ferdinand’s hand again. “I understand that I’ve placed you in an impossible position and I am deeply sorry that I attacked you without speaking with you first. But I hope you know that I was merely trying to allow an environment such as this, where we could discuss what was truly happening without a battle being waged around us.”

His gaze flickered between their joined hands and her face as something like resignation settled over his features. “You are still the same astounding person you were at the Academy,” Ferdinand sighed, sounding both awed and disgruntled by that observation. “I find myself believing every word you say. Perhaps I am merely gullible—easily swayed by the words of the powerful people I find myself surrounded with.”

She shook her head. “You have a big heart, Ferdinand. You’ve always sought to better yourself, and that is something that I have always admired. The things you saw today, those are real, as is the state of Hrym. I want nothing more than for you to fight by my side, but I understand that such things will take time and consideration. I plan to have you escorted back to the monastery, where you will be watched over until I can return.”

Worry creased his brow as he asked, “Where will you be?”

“I will be in Gloucester, helping Lorenz.”

“Lorenz?”

She nodded, though she was unwilling to go into details. “You will be safe with Yuri and the others. You must understand, I cannot send you back to the Empire. However, what is the status of your family? Are they in any sort of danger that I need to be made aware of?”

“M-My father is under house arrest in Aegir with my mother. To my knowledge they are not in any danger, though they have lost everything.”

“Were you made head of House Aegir?” 

Ferdinand looked down at the table as he shook his head. “The Imperial household has officially taken power over my family’s territory. When I approached Edelgard concerning the matter of taking over my father’s position, she informed me that such things would no longer be necessary at the end of the war and denied my request. I thought that perhaps… if I proved myself to her…”

She quietly finished, “You would earn a place in this new world of hers.” Ferdinand’s lips were set in a firm line he nodded. She couldn’t blame him, necessarily. Edelgard spun a pretty tale of the world that she wished to build, and having lost everything, Ferdinand wanted to make a place in it. He was young, not to mention raised by a nobleman who actively took power from the previous emperor until Edelgard shut him down. He was doing what he thought was best with the options that he had. The fact that he was even considering an alternative now was likely a big step for him.

A warning knock sounded at the door before Balthus walked in. She smiled as she introduced, “Ferdinand, I would like you to meet Balthus, a new friend of mine.”

Balthus chuckled merrily and clapped a hand on her shoulder. “Friend? Ah, boss, you’re gonna make me blush.” 

She fondly rolled her eyes. “Balthus, I’d like you to watch out for Ferdinand while I’m away from the monastery. Is that alright? I will be setting up a rotation consisting of Caspar, Dorothea, and Bernadetta as well, so you can have some rest.”

He lightly squeezed her shoulder before letting go and stepping back until he could prop himself against the wall. Whether he was trying to intimidate Ferdinand with his size, she couldn’t be sure, but she was suspicious due to the stern look on Balthus’ face. “Sure thing, pal. Whatever you need me to do!”

“Forgive me,” Ferdinand interjected, looking hesitantly between her and Balthus, “I have seen the others, but… well, I merely wish to know if Linhardt is alright.”

Her jaw tightened as she took a sip of her tea. “Linhardt was attacked a few weeks ago by one of the spies working for Edelgard’s allies, but I was able to reach him in time to save him.” Ferdinand’s eyes widened in alarm. “I do not require him to fight, so he stays behind to do as he wishes. Generally, that is researching whatever he fancies at the moment.”

“You… do not require him to fight?”

“He finds other ways to contribute, so I see no reason to force him.” Ferdinand’s features became thoughtful as he finished his cup. She stood and poured him some more as she asked, “Are you ready to try speaking with the others again? I have a meeting I must get to, but I can fetch them for you?”

“I…” He hesitated before nodding. “Yes, please. If you would be so kind.”

“Why don’t you come with me, Balthus? The knights can watch over him until the others arrive.” Balthus nodded and waved to a contemplative Ferdinand before following her out the door.

She found the former Black Eagles all together in Dorothea’s room, and told them that Ferdinand wished to speak with them before sending people to find Shamir, Yuri, and Lorenz. It was relatively easy finding a conference room that would work for the meeting and thankfully, the three were quick to arrive, Lorenz escorted by Leonie until she sent the bowknight away to rest further.

“What is this about?” Shamir asked, posting herself against the wall with her eye line facing the door as she normally did.

She waved her hand toward the purple-haired noble as she gave him the floor. “Lorenz?”

“Of course, Professor.” He nodded and straightened his tunic before explaining, “I have informed the Professor of emissaries from the Empire that have taken up residence in Gloucester Mansion.”

“Creepy dudes in masks who are keeping an eye on the fickle Alliance noble,” Shamir summarized, looking like she was resisting the urge to roll her eyes. Lorenz looked a bit scandalized by her phrasing, but cleared his throat and nodded all the same.

Yuri looked to her as he guessed, “And you want to take them out for old Count Gloucester as a “be our ally instead” gift?”

“Gift isn’t the word I’d use, but yes. He’ll use them as an excuse if we go to him now, not to mention we would risk them interfering or trying to take me if they have the same orders the other do.”

“Take you?” Lorenz exclaimed, looking appalled.

“They’ve made efforts to abduct your former professor already,” Shamir curtly explained. “How many are there?”

“When I left home a week ago, there were ten masked men staying within the mansion. It should be—” He didn’t get to finish as a knock sounded at the door. She called for whomever it was to enter, and tried not to look too confused when a Knight of Seiros escorted in an Alliance knight.

“Please, forgive me for intruding, Your Grace. An Alliance messenger has been detained, and he says he bears a message from Duke Riegan.”

“Claude?” Lorenz asked, looking between her and the knight in suspicion.

“Cocky bastard,” Shamir commented with a wry smirk. She could only imagine the sniper was commenting on the fact that Claude must have had full confidence in the fact that they would successfully take the Great Bridge if there was already a messenger here. It was at least a two days’ ride to Derdriu from here. Why hadn’t he sent Hilda? Perhaps she had been too lazy, or otherwise occupied?

“Thank you, you’re dismissed.” She waved off the Knight of Seiros before turning to assess the messenger. “Hello. You have a message for me?”

A deep voice spoke, distorted slightly by the helmet over the man’s head as he bowed formally and greeted, “Your Grace. Forgive me, but I have strict orders to give my message in the presence of only the Archbishop.” She raised her eyebrow in intrigue as Shamir pulled her bow from her shoulder, Balthus moved slightly in front of her, and Yuri moved between the armored messenger and the door. Lorenz moved to situate himself closer to Shamir, who was furthest from the messenger, and was looking about the room nervously.

Balthus was the one who lowly responded, “Yeah, that’s not happening, pal.”

She put her hand on Balthus’ arm as she walked around to stand closer to the messenger, but left enough room to react should he move to attack her. “Forgive my friends. We’ve been plagued with attacks from people who say they are someone they are not, so you can imagine their discomfort. Believe me when I say that everyone in this room can be trusted with your message.”

“Suit yourself,” the messenger quipped, before reaching up to take off his helmet.

“Claude?!” she and Lorenz both called out as the helmet was removed and revealed beautiful green eyes, longer dark hair, and chiseled features of a matured Claude. Though, her exclamation was punctuated by her throwing herself at the man in question and he chuckled as he spun her around a bit, burying his nose in her hair.

He playfully whined, “I’m supposed to be incognito, Teach.”

Lorenz hissed, “What are you doing here, Claude?!”

“I suppose it’s nice to see you too, Lorenz. Though, I was really hoping you were going to be in the group that’s handling my little training exercise right now.” His tone was teasing, but she saw his relief at the fact that Lorenz was alright. 

He placed her back on the ground, but kept his hands on her upper arms as he examined her with those beautiful green eyes that she had missed so much. “Gods, Teach. Hilda wasn’t kidding when she said you looked exactly the same.” She trailed her eyes over Claude’s features, taking in all that had changed. His braid was gone, replaced by longer, mussed hair that was pushed back in a way that was particularly striking. His eyes were warm as he stared down at her, and his jawline’s definition was emphasized by a handsome beard.

“You don’t,” she quietly commented. Her eyesight blurred before she blinked the tears away, and Claude’s eyes softened as he pulled her into another hug.

She pulled back with a clearing of her throat. “I’m going to speak with Claude for a moment. I’m sorry for the interruption, guys. We’ll discuss this more later.” 

Balthus was looking between them in interest, but shrugged it off as he made his way toward the door. “You want me outside?”

She nodded, her hands still grasping at Claude’s arms like he would vanish if she stopped touching him. “Yes, please. Make sure no one comes in.” For the sake of the other occupants of the room she also insisted, “And no one says anything about Claude’s presence.” 

“Understood,” Shamir answered before walking out with Lorenz, who cast a sharp look Claude’s direction before leaving. Yuri however, crossed his arms and walked closer. 

“One sec.” She pulled away from Claude to approach Yuri. 

“Speak to Claude, huh?” he teased, raising one sculpted eyebrow before glancing over her shoulder at the man in question. “You sure this is a good idea? He’s still not an ally.”

“You think I’d hurt my precious, Teach?” Claude asked in mock offense, though when she glanced over her shoulder his gaze and smile were both sharp as a blade as he walked over to loop an arm around her shoulders. 

Yuri’s eyes cataloged the movement before his gaze became just as sharp. “I’m sure you can understand my apprehension, Duke Riegan, what with the current state of affairs in Fodlan. I won’t risk Byleth’s safety.”

“Safety?” Claude all but purred. “Well, I’m overjoyed that my friend here has had people to look after her while I’ve been stuck in Derdriu.”

She rolled her eyes as she interjected, “Alright, play nice boys. Yuri, this is Claude, Claude this is Yuri.”

“An honor, I’m sure,” Yuri quipped with a mocking bow.

“The Savage Mockingbird is working with you, Teach? I must admit, I’m impressed.” He tightened his grip on her shoulders until she moved away to press a hand to Yuri’s chest.

She insisted, “It will be fine, Yuri. He’s a friend. There’s no need to be this standoffish.” 

Yuri gave her a look that informed her he wasn’t convinced before he leaned down to whisper directly in her ear, “We don’t know what he wants. And why does he want to get you alone? You said that those people can look like anyone. How do we know that’s actually the Duke?”

She pressed harder against his chest as she drawled, “Honestly, you sound just like Felix.” He wrinkled his nose in protest to the observation, and she huffed a hollow chuckle, weighed down by remembering her last interaction with the overly protective swordsman. 

He did have a point though. She turned to Claude and asked, “You showed me a secret drawing you found in a book given to you back in the Academy. What was the drawing depicting?”

Claude raised an eyebrow. “The Immaculate One?”

She turned back to Yuri. “It’s him. You don’t have to trust him, but you at least trust me, right?”

He tucked some hair behind her ear with a mock exasperated sigh. “Sure, friend.” He cast one last glance over her shoulder at Claude before turning with an unnecessary flourish of his cape and strutting out the door.

Claude quipped, “He’s awfully handsome. How’d he end up working for you?” She turned to face him and walked over to resume her inspection of his matured features.

She raised an eyebrow as she coyly responded, “He is, isn’t he? It’s a long story.” Claude chuckled, his eyes crinkling with mirth, and she reached up to trace his beard with her fingers.

He purred, “Is my face really that interesting, Teach?” as he settled his hands on her hips.

“You look so much older,” she whispered, trailing her fingertips to the soft skin below his eyes, dark from stress and lack of sleep. “And you look exhausted.”

Claude sighed, the playfulness slowly oozing out of him now that they were alone, and he placed his forehead against hers. “You could say that keeping a country together on my own has been a bit taxing. There have been quite a few nights of missed sleep over the years.” His voice wavered slightly as he admitted, “I thought I lost you, Teach.”

Tears welled in her eyes as she whispered, “I know… I’m so sorry.”

He sighed and regained his composure. “So… sleeping, huh? Where were you sleeping that my men couldn’t find you? Couldn’t even find any word of you?” They pulled slightly away as Claude began taking off the armored pieces he was wearing with a look of distaste. She imagined he wasn’t used to wearing that much armor.

“It’s… complicated. As far as I can tell I was sleeping at the bottom of a river. That’s certainly where I woke up, anyway.” His eyebrows furrowed in confusion and she shrugged. “Sothis woke me up from whatever restorative sleep I fell into to survive the fall and being stabbed through by the Sword of the Creator.” At his lifted eyebrow she unbuttoned the blouse she was wearing, and he ran his fingers reverently over her scar as she continued, “The guy who pulled me from the river explained that it had been nearly five years since the fall of the monastery. It’s been… jarring. I still can’t quite wrap my brain around all of it. Not that I have had much time to ponder it with everything that’s been happening.”

He was still looking at her scar as he asked, “What attacks were you talking about earlier?”

“We had a spy in the monastery that attacked Lin to send me a message. She was funneling information to those masked mages that I wrote to tell you about. And then more of them came a few weeks later with orders to take me alive.”

“What?” he asked, his eyes wide in alarm even as his eyebrows remained furrowed in confusion.

“It doesn’t make any sense, I know.” She sighed wearily and ran a hand through her hair. “I’ve had no space to breathe since then. Everyone is convinced my safety is in peril at every moment now.”

“Well, it kind of is, Teach. That’s part of being in a position like ours. I told you that years ago.” He was finally finished taking off the armor, and she took in every inch of pronounced shoulders and muscle definition as she stepped closer. 

How the hell did he look this good if he was that busy? 

He looked pleased with whatever face she was making as he looped his arms about her waist and she stepped into his hold. “What are you doing here? Not that I’m complaining, I just wasn’t expecting to see you for a while.”

His smile was dazzling as he exclaimed, “Are you kidding? I’ve been trying to come and see you ever since Hilda danced into my study and told me you were alive! It’s not every day your best friend comes back from the dead, Teach.”

“Best friend?” 

He held her there as he chuckled, “Well yeah. You were my first friend, weren’t you?”

“I suppose that’s true,” she quipped, before sighing in relief and sinking fully against him. “It’s so good to see you. I’ve been worried about you.”

“There’s so much I want to ask you, but I know I don’t have long. I need to get back to Derdriu before my absence turns any heads. I’m officially in Goneril, meeting with Holst on his status at the Locket.”

“If you are here, who’s running the ‘training exercise’?”

“My retainer, Nardel.”

She frowned. “Is he going to be alright?”

“Oh, he can handle himself,” Claude chuckled, idly playing with a piece of her hair. “Don’t you worry about him.”

“I can’t imagine the Count will be pleased when he figures out what we’ve done.”

Claude shrugged, “I imagine the fact that our scheme kept his soldiers out of any real conflict and the fact that you spared his heir will appease him enough to make him amenable.” He paused before hesitantly asking, “Ferdinand?”

“I knocked him out and took him prisoner.” She rolled her eyes at Claude’s amused chuckle, shuddering slightly at the memories of watching Ferdinand die, twice. “He’s been kept in the dark about a lot of what Edelgard is doing. I’m not certain he’ll desert to our side, but as of now I’m not giving him the choice to go back. I think he’s been involved with Hubert, though… so that is likely going to be an issue.”

“Ferdinand and Hubert?” Claude looked perplexed for a moment before shrugging. “Damn… that’s… yeah, that’s going to be a problem.”

“I really didn’t need any more reasons for Hubert to resent me.” She sighed heavily and leaned back to look at him. “You should also know that Acheron attacked our backline. Apparently, he was allied with Edelgard.”

“Of course, he was,” Claude groaned.

“He’s dead.” 

Claude grimaced, but nodded in understanding. “I figured that if anyone attacked you from our side it wouldn’t end well. What else were you supposed to do?” He sighed heavily and massaged his temples. “On the bright side, I’m fairly certain Gloucester will be more than pleased about it. Acheron has been a thorn in his side for years.” 

After a moment of contemplative silence she asked, “Can I ask you something?”

He gave a playful wink as he said, “Shoot.”

“Did you think Edelgard was… obsessed with me?” Claude threw his head back with a laugh, and she smacked him lightly on the chest. “I’m serious, Claude. Dorothea and Ferdinand have both brought it up, but I had no idea!”

“For how perceptive you are, you’re really kind of clueless, aren’t you?” He smirked at her disgruntled face. He pulled her closer to him as he drawled, “Sure, she was obsessed with you, you probably just didn’t notice because half of the Academy was obsessed with you.”

“Well, Dorothea thinks it might be why they want me alive. She thinks Edelgard might try to sway me to her side, but I couldn’t do that. I agree that the Crest System needs to be changed and that the Church of Seiros has too much control over the continent, but she’s gone about this all wrong. I wish she would have just… _talked_ to us. You know?”

Claude tiredly sighed, “I’ve been telling myself that for five years now, Teach. Gods, I’ve missed you. I needed someone who thinks like me all this time to keep me sane.”

She frowned slightly, saddened by the obvious fatigue in Claude’s features. “I’m here now. Help me get the rest of the Alliance lords on our side, and I don’t have to go anywhere.”

“Now _that_ ,” he tugged lightly on her bangs as he always used to in the Academy, “sounds like a plan.”

She distantly heard something going on in the hallway, but she was too busy pouting as she mourned the loss of Claude’s braid. She raked her hand through his hair as she whined, “You got rid of your braid.” Well… the closest she ever came to whining, which was really the same as her usual tone. She did really like the braid.

Claude cooed, “Awe, you miss it?” right as the door slammed open and an irate Felix stormed in with a somewhat sheepish Sylvain close behind. Balthus mouthed, “ _sorry_ ” before shutting the door again. She shut her eyes and drew in a steadying breath as Claude cheerily greeted, “Felix. Sylvain. I was _almost_ wondering where you two were.”

“Claude,” Felix curtly greeted, his arms crossed as he looked Claude over like he was sizing him up for a fight. She stepped out of Claude’s hold with a weary sigh and went to sit on the table, crossing her legs in front of her. So much for space. They lasted all of what? An hour? Two?

Claude traipsed over to trail a hand on Sylvain’s arm as he cooed, “Hey, Sylvain. The last five years have treated you well.”

Felix gritted out, “If you want to keep that hand, you’ll remove it,” making Sylvain roll his eyes, though she didn’t miss the slight uptick at the corner of the redhead’s mouth. 

Claude’s eyes widened in surprise for the briefest moment before he made that scheming face that used to warn her when he was going to stir up trouble. “I suppose congratulations are in order, then?” He sauntered back over to her and placed a hand on her thigh as he situated himself to her right. 

What was with all of these boys trying to power play one another? Scolding them was making her feel like she was a professor again, and not in a good way. 

Felix and Sylvain both glanced toward the hand on her thigh before their eyes flickered back up to Claude. “I don’t know what you’re implying,” Felix defensively answered, making Claude snort in amusement.

He looked to her before commenting, “At least one person hasn’t changed a bit. Though, I suppose the hot and cold act has finally settled out, huh Sylvain?”

“And you’re still pushing buttons,” Sylvain replied in an easy tone, lightly placing a hand on the inside of a wound-up Felix’s elbow, like he was holding him back from charging Claude. “I should have guessed.”

“Soooo… how did it happen?” Claude playfully prodded, leaning against her in an easy pose. “The trials of war? Both of you realizing the flame you’ve carried for one another since childhood has been there all along? Bonding over losing our precious Teach?”

She shoved him slightly and cautioned, “Claude…”

“Fuck off,” Felix snarled, going red in the face from what was probably a mixture of embarrassment and rage as Claude chuckled.

Claude turned to face her fully, setting a hand on each of her thighs as he cooed, “They are cute, though. Don’t you think, Teach?” 

She gritted out, “Stop, Claude. They are trying to keep it quiet.”

He playfully whined, “They are just so _obvious_ , Teach,” as he batted long dark lashes at her.

“Claude…” she narrowed her eyes, and he sighed as he backed off.

“You’re no fun,” he pouted.

She speculated aloud, “I can’t decide whether you and Yuri would get along swimmingly or eat each other alive.”

“Probably both,” Sylvain answered lowly, his jaw tense as he stared at them.

“What are you two doing in here, anyway? The others were supposed to keep this quiet.” Her words made Felix’s flush deepen as Sylvain awkwardly rubbed at the back of his neck.

“We heard you had a messenger come from the Alliance and wanted to see what was going on,” Sylvain answered. That obviously wasn’t the whole truth, but she wasn’t going to bring up their conversation with Claude around. He hardly needed more fodder for his teasing.

The brunette in question tilted his head slightly as he remarked, “Just little ‘ole me, coming to surprise Teach. I’m not technically supposed to be here, but I had to see her for myself, you know?”

“Sure, you did,” Felix groused.

She raised her eyebrow at Sylvain and Felix as she said, “As you can see, there’s nothing too exciting going on here. You guys can go and get some rest, now. We might have to postpone war council until tomorrow morning. I have other things to take care of.” 

“Byleth,” Felix hissed, in that tone that told her he wasn’t pleased with her.

She met his narrowed gaze as she calmly responded, “Felix?”

Through gritted teeth he insisted, “We need to talk to you.”

She sighed, “It will have to wait, Felix. I haven’t seen Claude since I’ve been back. I need a minute, here.”

“Yeah, come on! Teach and I need some time to catch up before I head back to Derdriu. It was nice to see you guys, though.” Claude shot them a cheeky wink before turning back toward her. Sylvain grabbed Felix’s elbow and began pulling him toward the door as the swordsman kept his eyes locked on hers. Eventually she couldn’t stand the eye contact anymore and she looked down at her lap instead.

After the latch on the door clicked, she looked up at Claude and grumbled, “I wish you wouldn’t antagonize them.”

“Felix is just so fun to tease,” Claude joked, though he sobered somewhat when he could tell she obviously wasn’t in the mood. “Has that been hard?”

She evenly asked, “Has what been hard?”

“Two of the people you’re close to being together like that? Not to mention how different things must have seemed from your perspective. It had to be weird.” She shrugged and tried to keep her features neutral as Claude analyzed them. In a conversational tone he said, “It’s kinda funny, I always thought they’d end up fighting over who ended up with you.”

“Well, they didn’t,” she tersely replied. “They are together, and everything is great the way it is.”

One eyebrow raised as he prodded, “Are you sure about that? You look a bit tense, Teach.”

“Well, I’ve been leading an army since I woke up in a river after a five-year nap. I’ve kind of had a lot going on.” If only Claude knew the half of it.

Claude hummed thoughtfully, wrapping his arms around her shoulders and pulling her into an embrace as he asked, “How’s Dimitri?”

“Not great.” Her answer was muffled as she buried her head in his shoulder.

“I was afraid you were going to say that,” he sighed, running one of his hands lightly through her hair as the other rubbed her shoulder comfortingly. 

After a moment of silence she asked, “How long are you staying?”

“Long enough to let Omar rest a little bit.”

She pushed back to look at him as she asked, “You still have Omar?” Omar and Emery used to get along pretty well back during the Academy days. She and Claude would sometimes go up to the aviary to sneak the wyverns extra treats and hide from everyone else. She was relieved to hear that Omar had made it this far.

He smiled fondly as he answered, “Yeah, the old boy has gotten me through quite a bit. I don’t get to ride him as often anymore because I’ve brought over my wyvern from home, but Cassie’s a bit more… distinctive. I left her in Derdriu. Hopefully you’ll get to meet her soon.”

She bowed her head as she informed him, “Emery died while I was sleeping.”

“Ah, Teach…” Claude continued to run his fingers through her hair in a way that felt awfully soothing. “I’m so sorry.”

“She died protecting Sylvain during one of Cornelia’s attacks on Fraldarius' borders. I just… I miss her.”

“No wonder you’re so stressed, you’ve been landbound for far too long!” Claude smiled and pulled away to look at her. “Let’s go flying the next time I see you, yeah? I’ll introduce you to Cassiopeia. I just know she’ll love you.”

She couldn’t help smiling a bit. “Cassiopeia, huh? You always did love the stars.”

He quirked a playful grin as he explained, “She’s a vain creature, that one, so it totally fits. You’ll agree with me once you meet her.”

“I look forward to it.” She stroked Claude’s arm as she said, “I want your opinion on something.”

He raised an eyebrow. “What’s up?”

“Lorenz tells me there are emissaries from the Empire in Gloucester. They are some of the masked mages I’ve been trying to warn you about—the ones that are tied to the people that were masquerading as Tomas and Monica.” 

She could see the way his demeanor switched to business as he commented, “That… explains a lot, actually. They must have been putting even more pressure on Gloucester, and that must be why no one has been hearing much from Lorenz. They must have been sent to keep an eye on the Count.”

“Exactly. But I planned to take Lorenz home and speak with Gloucester, personally.”

He raised an eyebrow as he asked, “So now you’re thinking of taking out Her Royalness’ so-called emissaries?”

At the sight of a slight pout in his lips she asked, “Is that not the right call?” Claude was far more versed in the political games of Alliance nobles than she was, that was why she brought it up in the first place.

“It’s certainly the mercenary way of handling things,” Claude teased, before becoming contemplative again. “Count Gloucester is a… temperamental man. The Riegan family has been waging a silent war against him for decades now, with varied success. I’m sure he doesn’t appreciate being monitored so closely by Her Royalness, but I’m also not sure how he’ll react to a show of force from you. He’ll tell you he’s pious, but I’ll bet he just tries to appear that way for the other lords. He may not take you very seriously at first.”

She distantly remembered running into Lorenz in the Cathedral once and him admitting that he mostly attended services because it was his duty as a noble to appear pious for others. She was willing to bet she’d gotten that attitude—along with his general attitude—from his father.

She supplied, “We do have control of the Great Bridge, now.”

“You do, but you don’t have the forces required to take out Edelgard yourself.” He hummed thoughtfully before saying, “I’ll have to call a Roundtable conference due to this recent development.” He gestured vaguely to their surroundings with a sly smile. “Maybe you should kindly inform him that you have Lorenz and make an appearance?”

“What?”

His smile grew as he prattled on. “Come to Derdriu! You and Lorenz. Hell, bring the other Deer, as well. I’ll fly directly to Derdrui, summon the other lords, and inform them that you have control of the Great Bridge. You’ll arrive soon after me, plead your case to the others, go through all the political drama, and then we’ll send you on your way. It will take some deliberation before they will actually vote on anything, but it might be the better way to move forward with Gloucester. He’ll have to keep up his pious act, and he would look like an idiot if he voted against your appeal when you’ve delivered his heir safely to him. If he needs help ousting the emissaries, he’ll have to appeal to the Roundtable, or to you directly. It’s perfect!”

She tilted her head to her fist as she hummed, “I would have to write to Seteth to inform him… and I’ll have to discuss it with Rodrigue and the others…” 

Claude nodded enthusiastically. “Do what you need to. I do think this is the smarter option, though. Securing a vote from Count Gloucester might take a bit more… political maneuvering.”

“You’ve got me there,” she sighed. “I don’t know how to be an Archbishop. I don’t even know how to talk to these Lords.”

He soothed, “We’ll have a few days in Derdriu where I can coach you through everything, not to mention I’ll be there to help! Besides, each of the Lords at the Roundtable have children that you taught at the Academy, and they’ve all heard the stories about you. Hell, we’ll have you spar Holst in front of the others. That alone will help sway them, I bet.”

“I have heard good things about Holst…” she hummed. The idea of sparring the eldest Goneril excited her, even if every other parts of this trip filled her with dread.

Claude chuckled, “Oh, he’ll love you! And you’ll get to meet Nardel! He’s a friend of my father’s… he’ll want to spar with you, as well.” He took her hands in his as he pleaded, “Come to Derdriu!”

She debated it for a moment before nodding. “I’ll call a meeting right now.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> SURPRISE!!! Our golden boy is back, guys!!!! Goddess, I've missed writing Claude. Also, I'm very aware that we're getting REAL loose with canon here, but hopefully ya'll are okay with that. I wanted to add the element of the "emissaries" to give Count Gloucester a bit more... conflict? Sure, we'll go with that word. I also felt that it was important to have Byleth make a wrong call. She's a mercenary! 
> 
> Byleth: "Oh, there's someone in Gloucester that will stand in the way of an alliance with House Gloucester? Let's be ninjas and kill them. Then we'll get Gloucester alone and he'll have to be our ally!"
> 
> Claude: "Or-- now, hear me out-- we could do this politically AND I could steal you away to Derdriu for a few days."
> 
> Byleth: "You're right. That makes much more sense."
> 
> Also... Yuri, Felix, and Sylvain's reactions to Claude. Hahahaha *sobs* 
> 
> Comments and kudos are appreciated. I love ya'll! Stay safe and stay sane!


	30. The Fight For You Is All I've Every Known, So Come Home

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Chapter title pulled from "Come Home" by OneRepublic
> 
> A war council meeting turns into devastating news for our Faerghus boys. Byleth journeys to Derdriu.

~Sylvain~

His hands were shaking as he pulled Felix out of the room, though he wasn’t certain why. Maybe it had something to do with the fact that his chest was aching and every inhale and exhale felt like it took more effort than it should. Goddess, today was turning out to be a hell of a day.

“What the hell are you doing?” Felix hissed as he shut the door behind them. “We’re not just going to leave them in there?!”

His voice sounded steadier than he would have thought himself capable as he said, “She didn’t want us in there. We shouldn’t have gone in there in the first place.” Perhaps all of those years of pretend were finally coming in handy. 

Eh. A thought he would never get around to dissecting later.

Balthus chuckled awkwardly before shrugging, “I tried to warn you, pal.” He had, he truly had. Balthus had only allowed them into the room when it seemed like he and Felix would come to physical blows, and Byleth’s bodyguard had cracked, likely under the thought that Byleth would prefer that Felix wasn’t bloodied by an ally, or bloodied at all for that matter.

“Right,” he exhaled, waving a hand toward the larger man even if he couldn’t seem to make himself look at him, “sorry about that.”

“No problem,” Balthus chirped, resuming his position against the wall, watching as the various former students, Knights of Seiros, and other staff members that were formerly working on the Great Bridge milled about. Everyone was going about their business, completely oblivious to the emotional explosion that had just gone off on the other side of that door a few minutes ago.

_Claude? Seriously? Why now?_

“I take it that didn’t go well?” Yuri seemed to materialize from nowhere—he hadn’t been paying attention so he very well might have—and Felix whirled on the trickster.

“No, it didn’t go well. He’s… he’s just as insufferable as he was before!” Felix growled something under his breath and tore his fingers through his hair. There was still a faint trace of flush across his cheeks from what was likely a mixture of rage and embarrassment. Claude had always had a scary ability to read people, but he was willing to wager that some of his words had hit a bit too close to home for both of them. 

_“Bonding over losing our precious Teach?”_

Had they? The thought was… unsettling. Many of the more emotionally intimate moments they shared had stemmed from conversations about Byleth… Which begged the question: What would have happened if Byleth hadn’t vanished after the fall of the monastery? What would have happened if she had returned to Fraldarius with them? Where would the three of them be, then? 

He knew there was no use thinking about it, but it felt so very… _wrong_. About as wrong as it felt to watch Claude put his hands all over Byleth. He had always hated jealousy—he thought it petty and unattractive in the various men and women he’d caroused with in the years before the war—but now the feeling was like an infernal itch beneath his skin. He had no right to his jealously, Byleth wasn’t his to be possessive of, but it didn’t stop the ugly feeling in his chest and the twitch of his fingers to do something, _anything_.

“I was afraid of that,” Yuri sighed, glancing one last time at the door before turning to walk down the hallway. 

Afraid of what exactly? Yuri had knocked on their door before gliding into their room, where they happened to still be recovering from their conversation with Byleth. He then leaned causally against the doorway, looking at his fingernails as he announced, “I thought you’d like to know that someone has just arrived to see our friend, Byleth.”

“What?” Felix had rocketed to his feet, while Sylvain had stayed in his chair. “Who?”

“The person you might dislike even more than you dislike me,” Yuri all but cooed in response, his gaze far too pointed for the levity of his tone. 

“We don’t dislike you,” he’d quickly denied in an easy tone. “We just…” He paused then, considering. Was there a way to say “you’ve fucked the woman we’ve both been in love with for years and continue to be far too comfortable with her for our liking” without saying just that? Yuri’s eyes told him he didn’t have to say the words for them to be understood, which was more than a little unsettling.

“Shit.” Felix’s eyes blew wide before he made his way to the door, blowing right past Yuri and making it so he had to scramble to keep up. A few minutes later, after bickering with Balthus, they barged in on Byleth and Claude, with Byleth’s finger raking through brunette hair and a salacious grin on Claude’s lips.

But… Why had Yuri come to them in the first place?

Felix grabbed his arm, pulling him from his thoughts. The shorter swordsman began tugging him down the hallway as he muttered, “We have to talk to her.” The desperate look in his eyes meant he was referring to… well… _that_ talk. 

He dug his heels and forced Felix to stop so he could see his reaction as he asked, “Are you sure?”

Felix’s gaze fell to the floor as he murmured, “You saw them.” Apparently in Felix’s opinion it was better to risk it all rather than losing Byleth to Claude von Riegan… Not that he could really say he felt otherwise, but he wanted to tell her _before_ seeing Claude. However, Felix had really gotten into his head with the whole “can we risk that?” thing. Now he was very much aware of the fact that there was a possibility of them telling her, and in so doing, pushing her further into Claude’s reach.

He feebly began, “As long as she’s happy…” only to be cut off by an angry click of Felix’s tongue.

Narrowed eyes tinted fiery red locked onto his as Felix snapped, “You’ve given up on this already? Seriously?”

He held up his hands defensively. “I haven’t given up, Fe, that’s the way I’ve always felt. You know that! I’ve told you that several times!” He would rather continue to have her in his life as a dear friend than lose her entirely, even if they both loved her. Would he like it if she ended up with Claude? No. But that wasn’t his decision to make, and as long as she was happy, he’d be… fine. Ish.

He’d be fine.

Felix rolled his eyes before groaning, “You were the one who was all “let’s tell her” two minutes ago!”

“And you were the one who said it could make everything worse!” He’d spoken louder than he intended to, drawing attention from Catherine and Shamir who were walking past them. They really shouldn’t be discussing this out in the open, should they?

“Make what worse?” They both turned to find Ashe looking at them both in obvious concern. “Is everything alright?”

“Everything is fine,” Felix grunted, placed a hand on his slender hip and looked off to the side in his broody pouting stance. It would be unbearably cute if it weren’t for their current circumstances.

Ashe shrugged it off before cheerfully offering, “Why don’t you guys come with me to the room I’m sharing with Annette? Mercedes and Dedue are in there, as well! We’re taking some time to catch up until we know what the plan is.”

“I’m surprised Dedue’s not off fawning over the boar,” Felix scoffed.

Ashe chuckled nervously. This was dangerous territory, and they all knew it. “W-Well I believe Ingrid is with His Highness right now. She offered to take him food so Dedue could have a moment to rest from his long journey.”

He faux-cheerfully interjected, “I’d love to come. How about you, Fe?” It was better than standing in this hallway, obsessing over what Byleth and Claude were doing right now. He nudged the swordsman, who nudged back with far more force than was necessary.

After one more brooding moment, Felix grumbled, “Fine.”

It was nice chatting with the others, but their relaxation didn’t last long before they were summoned for an impromptu war council. They made their way to the room where he and Felix spoke with Byleth and Claude, only to find an Alliance soldier. He realized it was likely Claude, what with the way he stood inconspicuously in the corner and Lorenz’s kept glaring like by so doing he could burn a hole in the soldier's helmet. The Duke had mentioned that he wasn’t supposed to be here, and the murmurs in the hallway had been about an ‘Alliance messenger’.

Ferdinand wasn’t there, but aside from him, all of the other former students stood in various places within the room, as well as Shamir, Catherine, Alois, Gilbert, and Rodrigue. Byleth stood at the head of the table, still looking as exhausted as she had when she left them in her room, and crossed her arms behind her back as she began, “First, I’d like to congratulate you all on your victory today. We faced great odds, and came out victorious. Our first step toward ending the war was wildly successful. Great job, all of you.” 

A low hum of excited murmurs picked up and then died as Byleth cleared her throat to draw everyone’s attention once more. “I have discussed our next steps with Rodrigue, and I feel that the best move would be to leave for the monastery once the soldiers tasked with manning the bridge have arrived. There, we can wait until we have sufficient troops to officially enter Empire territory.” 

“Which brings me to the next point of business…” Green eyes traveled over everyone before Byleth announced, “I will not be returning with you to the Monastery.”

“What?” Felix’s sharp voice cut through the din as everyone looked about in confusion. He guessed what was coming, and his heart sank to his stomach.

Byleth remained stoic as usual as she explained, “I’ve received word from Claude von Riegan, and I feel it would be best to take Lorenz directly to Derdriu, where we may meet with the other lords of the Roundtable, personally. I am hopeful my presence will help to persuade the other lords to ally with us, so we may move forward expeditiously.” Lorenz looked thoughtful, cupping his chin in his hand as he stared down at the table. 

“Ha!” Dimitri’s sharp bark of laughter caused everyone to tense. “You wish to leave and consort with the enemy now? Is that it?”

She evenly insisted, “I am going to Derdriu to obtain more troops for our army, Dimitri. I’m trying to push this effort forward as quickly as I can manage, at your insistence. Unless you would prefer to march on Fhirdiad first and obtain more troops that way?” Dimitri crossed his arms as a deep scowl twisted his features. “Then, this is the fastest way to obtain the troops necessary.”

“How long do you plan to be gone?” Yuri asked, surprising him. He figured Byleth would have talked this over with at least him before bringing it to the group.

“Two weeks… hopefully less if I can manage it.”

Rodrigue asked, “What of the plan to take Lorenz to Gloucester territory and take out the emperor’s emissaries?” Felix tensed beside him, looking between Rodrigue, Byleth, and Yuri in obvious befuddlement. Had she talked this through with _anyone_? Anyone other than Claude, that is.

In a neutral tone, Byleth answered, “I’ve reconsidered. Upon further reflection, I feel my initial plan may have been a bit to… mercenary.” She said the word hesitantly before nodding. “I feel a show of force might be more of a hindrance than a solution when it comes to swaying Count Gloucester to side with us.” 

All he was hearing was that Claude had managed to talk her into going to Derdriu. 

Lorenz begrudgingly noted, “I can’t say that this new plan lacks merit. My father is far more likely to favor one who plays the game his way,” flexing his hands on his knees. The purple-haired noble looked nervous about the plan, and he idly wondered if Lorenz was as estranged from his father as he was. What would he have done if his father would have sided with the Empire? He likely would have fled House Gautier, but now Byleth was asking Lorenz to go back and change his father’s mind. That was an incredibly intimidating prospect if Count Gloucester was anything at all like his father.

“And your father is the main person that is standing between us and a partnership with the Alliance. With you there to assist me, I’m certain we can sway him.” Lorenz preened at Byleth’s praise, making Felix roll his eyes. 

“I’ll be leaving in the morning with Lorenz and the other Golden Deer,” she looked to the group referenced and quickly added, “If you would like to come with me, that is.” Leonie shrugged, while Ignatz and Raphael nodded. His heart sank from his stomach to the floor. Really his whole being just felt _heavy_. Felix, on the other hand, looked like he was about ready to erupt like one of those awful magma geysers they came across in Ailell. “It will be roughly two days ride to Derdriu, and I will return to the monastery as soon as I’ve finished pleading our case at the Roundtable Conference.”

“It seems as if you are set on this,” Rodrigue commented, his tone careful. Byleth nodded, looking between Rodrigue and Dimitri. “If you truly believe that it will help our cause I see no reason that you shouldn’t proceed.”

“If I may, Byleth,” Alois interjected with a clearing of his throat, “Perhaps you should also take a small retinue of guards from the Knights of Seiros? Your safety is still of the utmost priority.”

“I’m hoping to arrive in Derdriu as quickly as possible, and traveling with too large a group would only slow us down,” Byleth hummed, tilting her head to her fist in thought.

“Take Catherine with you,” Shamir suggested, nodding toward her partner. “She’s long been in service to Lady Rhea, she has ties to the Kingdom, and she bears a Relic. Keeps your group small, provides an additional voice to back your claim as acting Archbishop, and provides you additional protection.”

Byleth looked toward the blonde Holy Knight and asked, “Would you be willing, Catherine?”

Catherine looked to Alois who put a hand to his chin before nodding. She shrugged and answered, “I don’t see why not.”

Byleth nodded. “Alright. If anyone needs anything from me, it would be best to see me before dawn. For now, you are all dismissed. Rodrigue? Yuri? If I could speak with you both for a moment?” She walked over to the Alliance knight—Claude in disguise—and said something quietly. He nodded and quickly left the room before the others did.

Felix marched toward the opposite corner of the room where Byleth was speaking with his father and Yuri in hushed tones, and he followed along with a bitten back sigh. “—should be putting a stop to it, not finding out what exactly they were doing.”

Yuri quietly retorted, “I’m not sure I see the issue with Hanneman investigating their methods, friend.”

“It’s dark magic. Darker than…” she sighed and brought a hand to her forehead, kneading the skin there like she had a headache. Perhaps she still wasn’t feeling well. “These people are tampering with things they don’t understand. I think the corpses should be laid to rest without further investigation. Speak with Seteth on the matter. You can go with whatever he says, but please let him know that that is my position on the issue.”

Rodrigue seemed somewhat hesitant, but still agreed, “That seems fair.”

“Sylvain and I are going with you to Derdriu,” Felix brusquely interrupted, crossing his arms and looking at Byleth as if he was daring her to object. 

Unfortunately, she dared. “The group I have already asked will be more than sufficient, Felix. Thank you for offering, though.”

“Surely two more wouldn’t delay you too harshly?” Rodrigue coaxed, and if Felix were less… Felix… he’d probably do something insane like hug his father with how vindicated he looked.

Yuri muttered, “If it weren’t for the fact that I’ve been away from Abyss for far too long already, I would probably insist on going, as well.”

Byleth shook her head. “I’ve made up my mind. I’ll see you all when I return to the monastery.”

“Wait!” He hadn’t meant to call out that loudly, but at least it got Byleth’s attention. “Can Felix and I have dinner with you before you go? We still have something we wanted to talk to you about.”

There was something, some emotion he couldn’t quite place, that was there and then gone across Byleth’s features. Whatever it was vanished behind a forced neutrality before she turned toward the door and quietly answered, “I’ll likely be retiring early in order to be sufficiently rested for the journey.” She took a few steps toward the door before adding, “I’m sorry.” 

“Byleth!” Felix groaned in frustration, but didn’t go after her as she left the room without looking back. Yuri pursed his lips in something that might have been sympathy before trailing out after her, calling her name as he went.

Rodrigue looked between them, his brow knitted in concern, and asked, “Is everything alright, son?”

Felix spat back, “Of course, it’s not alright!” before heaving a heavy sigh and shaking his head. His voice was far softer as he said, “Sorry, it’s just… complicated.”

“Complicated?” Rodirgue hummed, putting a hand over his mouth in a thoughtful pose. It didn’t take much to realize he was probably smiling behind that hand. “Does this have anything to do with Duke Riegan being ‘insufferable when it comes to Byleth’?”

Felix narrowed his eyes and growled out a cautioning, “Old man…”

“I digress.” Rodrigue held up his hands in surrender before patting Felix on the shoulder. “I’m sure she will be perfectly safe on her journey, if that is your concern. If it is not…” He paused and tilted his head slightly in thought, a small frown curving his lips. “Well, hopefully she will be back to the monastery before you know it.” He nodded in farewell before walking out the door.

“We should just go after her,” Felix began in an anxious tone, pacing slightly as he clenched his fists at his sides, “We’ll force her to sit down and talk to us, then we can tell her everything.”

He released a broken chuckle as he leaned his shoulder against the wall, suddenly sapped of all of his energy. “Yes, that seems like the best situation to profess one’s love for the other.”

“When have we ever done things the best way?” Felix countered. He could see something of a wry smirk seeping through the anxiety and frustration that was pulsating off of Felix. “We met when she saved your life, reunited by chance at the Academy, you and I only confessed after… well…” The swordsman trailed off as he slowed to a stop, releasing a sound that seemed a bitter mixture of mirthless chuckle and a groan of frustration. “You get what I mean.”

“She’s set on doing this in an effort to obtain more troops. She’s still going to Derdriu, no matter what we say or don’t say tonight.” As much as he hated to say it, he admitted, “Maybe all she needs is some space. Maybe a little bit of time away from the monastery—away from us—will help her.”

“It's time with Claude,” Felix bit back, his face riddled with consternation.

He shrugged minutely. “He is her friend, and she has been really worried about him.”

“I don’t care,” Felix exclaimed, lifting his arms with an exasperated noise. “He’s just using her, just like he wanted to back then. You don’t understand, when he took her to the goddess tower, he wasn’t talking about how much he admired her or cared for her, he was talking about how she could help him fulfill his ambitions or whatever. All he cares about is himself!”

He ran a hand down his face before sighing, “We don’t know that, Fe. We weren’t the only ones who mourned her after she fell… Claude lost her too. He had people looking for her the whole five years she was—"

“I’m aware!” Felix shouted, his shoulders beginning to tremble. “I sat around in Fraldarius, angry and bitter, and did nothing, while Claude von Riegan scoured all of Fodlan for any trace of her. I already know that!” He should have known that Felix hadn’t moved past the guilt and self-hatred he felt for “abandoning” Byleth. He shouldn’t have said what he did, but he couldn’t take back the words now.

The urge to comfort was all-consuming as he stepped forward to take his swordsman’s calloused hands into his own. He crooned, “We can’t change the past, Fe. Byleth doesn’t blame you, and we don’t know that either of us would have been able to find her even if we had looked. Byleth’s crew searched the area for weeks, so did Claude’s people.”

Felix was still agitated as he insisted, “We should have done something. I should have done something. I should be doing something right now!” 

He gently held Felix’s chin as he assured him, “You are doing something. You’re giving Byleth the space she asked for. We’ll talk to her when she comes back from Derdriu.”

“I can’t lose her.” It sounded like some grave confession, spoken in wavering words that rang with Felix’s fear. It was so strange to see, but he couldn’t help feeling enamored with the fact that Felix was finally showing emotions other than rage and irritation. And as much as he wanted to assure him that he wouldn’t—that they would make it through this war together, that Byleth would feel the same and desire the same things they did—he knew he couldn’t. He didn’t know what Byleth felt for them, and he didn’t know what was going to happen as they continued to march headlong into this war.

With a lack of anything else to he could say, he murmured, “She’ll be back soon.”

They didn’t see any trace of Byleth for the rest of the evening. Felix woke long before the sun—if the riled-up swordsman had slept at all—and nudged him awake in order to go down to the stables and see Byleth off. They ended up arriving to find no one else there. For a moment they worried that perhaps they had missed them, but were then relieved when Leonie came out.

She grinned companionably and asked, “Are you guys tagging along?” as she began preparing her horse for the journey.

Felix’s face twisted with displeasure as he groused, “No, we just came to see you off.”

“Oh.” Leonie patted her horse’s snout as the chestnut stallion poked at her shoulder, her features contemplative. “We’ll be there to keep an eye on her, don’t you worry.”

“Yeah! Nothing’s gonna happen to the Professor on my watch!” They turned to find Raphael and Ignatz walking toward them, Raphael looking just as bright and enthusiastic as he did at any other time, even with the early hour. Ignatz nodded eagerly in agreement, before his eyes widened at something over his shoulder. Confused, he turned to follow the archer’s gaze, but didn’t see anything. He turned back toward Ignatz, but he had scurried away to prepare his own steed.

“—Albrecht, truly?” Lorenz turned the corner to the stables soon after, talking Balthus’ ear off with Byleth walking silently behind them, dressed in her black and gold armor and riding leathers with her features set in that same neutral guise it had been yesterday. He thought he saw a flicker of something like sadness as her eyes landed on them, but it was gone before he could be sure. She turned to fully face the conversation, turning pointedly away from them, and Felix bristled beside him. “I had heard the rumors, but it seems hard to fathom that you were beneath Garreg Mach all the while.”

“Yeah,” Balthus chuckled nervously, rubbing at the back of his neck, “You mind not mentioning that to the other lords? The collectors and assassins have slowed down a lot because of the war and everything, but I really don’t need anyone coming after me when I’ve already got the boss to look after with these freaky mages.”

Lorenz turned his nose up a bit, but glanced toward Byleth before begrudgingly answering, “You have my word, and a nobleman such as myself always keeps his word.” 

Byleth nodded in thanks before asking Balthus, “Is there anything you’d like me to tell Holst?”

“Probably that I say hi. Haven’t seen the guy in years. I wish I could go with ya, but…”

“We wouldn’t want to put you in any unnecessary danger. Hopefully, you’ll be able to pay off the coin you owe soon so you can see him yourself.” Byleth smirked wryly before commenting, “I’m looking forward to our spar. I’ve heard great things.”

“I’d pay good money to watch that fight.” The massive brawler sounded genuinely thoughtful as he mused aloud, “It’s hard to say who I’d bet on though.” 

“I’d have thought you had more faith in me by now,” Byleth teased. She clasped arms with the much larger man—honestly it was quite comical to see them side-by-side—and added, “Take some time to rest and recharge while I’m gone. You’ve been overworked these past few months.”

Balthus bashfully denied, “Ah, it’s nothing.”

Byleth pulled on him with the grip she had on his arm and reaffirmed, “I’m grateful for you, Balthus. I hope you know that.” Balthus flustered under the weight of her stare combined her complete honesty, and he found himself blown away at the sway Byleth had over people without even truly trying. “Oh, and give Manuela my regards.” She winked slyly, and Balthus pounded a giant hand on her shoulder with a raucous laugh.

“Be safe out there, pal. I’ll be seein’ ya!” He nodded to them before turning to head back inside. 

With Balthus gone, Byleth finally turned to address them. The others had busied themselves with preparing for the journey, but she kept her voice down regardless, as if she didn’t wish to be overheard. “I thought I said—”

“We are well aware we’re not allowed to come with you. We’re just saying goodbye,” Felix grumpily cut in.

She grumbled, “You say ‘allowed’ like I’m commanding you,” rubbing at her forehead like she was yesterday. Was she still not feeling well? And she was still traveling?

Felix narrowed his eyes and asked, “Aren’t you?”

She sighed, “Fe…”

“Don’t.” Felix stepped closer until they were nearly nose to nose. And he considered the fact that it really shouldn’t be so… _appealing_ … the way their bodies fit together so nicely, but it had him running a bit hot beneath the collar nonetheless. Especially with the intense look in Felix’s eyes, and the way Byleth’s lips had parted ever so slightly as she tilted her head back to meet his gaze. “We don’t want to leave you alone—ever—we’re only going to do so because _you_ have asked it of us. Either way, we’re still going to be waiting for you when you come home.”

Byleth swallowed heavily, staring up at Felix with her doe eyes blown wide until she snapped herself out of it a moment later. She shook her head and in a breathless chuckle she mumbled, “Home.”

He placed a hand on each of their shoulders and nodded as he agreed, “Home.” 

She tucked a strand of hair behind her ear and looked up at them through her lashes as she quietly said, “I should go and get my horse prepared. I’ll see you both when I get back.” With a clearing of her throat her normal neutrality slipped back over her features and she walked away. Felix released a ragged exhale and traced his thumb over the pommel of his silver sword, his eyes glowing vermilion in the early morning light as he watched Byleth move to her horse, which was already being saddled by a young squire.

“She’ll be back soon,” he assured him, pressing an inconspicuous hand to the small of his back. Felix hummed in acknowledgement as Byleth tied the last saddlebag on and mounted. Her mint tresses looked luminescent as she rode past them, her back straight and her features firmly set. She turned her head toward them and raised a hand in a small wave before kicking her horse into a trot and leading the others toward the gates of the Great Bridge. 

Felix grunted and nodded his head toward something to Sylvain’s right, and when he glanced over, he found Dimitri watching Byleth ride away with a solemn Dedue beside him. It may have been his imagination, but it seemed they weren’t the only ones upset by Byleth’s departure.  


~Byleth~

They had made good time so far as they rode toward Derdriu. They stopped just before sundown in Gloucester territory to set up camp. (Despite Lorenz’s many protests that they should make their way to his family’s estate instead of camping out, even though she told him that would defeat the purpose of this whole plan.) She was hoping they would arrive at the Riegan estate before dark the next day if they didn’t run into any trouble on the road. The Golden Deer had always been a companionable bunch, and she wasn’t surprised when she found it easy to listen to them laugh and joke as they rode, providing background noise for the lush scenery they passed through. They also didn’t seem to mind that she stayed silent for most of the day, stuck in her own thoughts.

As much as she hated to admit it, she was nervous. It was a feeling she hadn’t truly dealt with much, but it was relatively easy to spot with the clamminess of her palms and the upset of her stomach as they rode. She hadn’t been able to shake yesterday’s pesky headache either, which seemed to only be making her nerves worse. 

She knew she was going to be wildly out of her depth over the coming days, but she saw no other alternative. She needed to plead her case to the other lords at the Roundtable Conference because they needed the extra troops if they were going to advance into enemy territory. Her Lions may be skilled fighters, but no amount of skill or tactical genius (or turning back time, for that matter) was going to help them against the sheer numbers that they were facing. Skill also wasn’t going to keep the rest of their soldiers armed and fed. She knew she needed to do this, she just… didn’t like it.

She also didn’t like that Felix and Sylvain weren’t here with her. She knew she needed to leave them behind—she desperately needed the space to think about all of these _feelings_ she had been having lately without them constantly coming to check up on her, or guard her, or spend time with her. She knew that if she continued to have these intimate moments with them that she was going to blurt something out that she would ultimately regret. And she knew that she shouldn’t be feeling these things at all, because Felix and Sylvain were happy together, and she didn’t want to get between them or cause them any sort of unhappiness. She knew all of this, but she still hated the idea of not being there. 

What if something happened back at the monastery? Or what if they were ambushed on the way back? What if there was another assassin? She wouldn’t be able to turn back time for anyone’s sake while in Derdriu. What if she lost them and couldn’t do anything to change it?

She mentally asked that Sothis watch over them, and the other people she cared about at the monastery, but she wasn’t sure whether that was even possible for the supposed goddess anymore.

“Wow, Ignatz… that’s really good.” Leonie was standing behind the artistically inclined archer with a bit of dried meat in her hand, looking at whatever Ignatz was doing when she glanced over from her seat on the other side of the fire. They had all settled down to eat, but Ignatz seemed far more intent on working in his journal, though from what she remembered that was fairly standard for the olive-haired young man.

“Ahhh!” Ignatz slammed the journal to his chest as his cheeks tinted pink in the firelight. “Leonie! You frightened me! You shouldn’t sneak up on people like that!”

“Sorry.” The apology was spoken in a chuckle, which made it sound far less sincere than when she added, “But seriously, it looks really good.”

“Are you working on another project?” Ignatz’s owlish brown eyes flew to hers before the flush in his cheeks deepened. 

He shook his head frantically as he denied, “It’s just a sketch, Professor. It’s really nothing special.”

“You can call me Byleth if you’d like? I haven’t been your teacher in quite some time.” She idly considered the idea that she should keep a running tally of how many times she said that each week. It seemed that nearly everyone was struggling with the transition to calling her by her name. It wasn’t that she disliked the title—not at all. She loved nothing more than being a professor at the Officer’s Academy. Unfortunately, those days were long over, and she was unable to think of a way in which she would be able to return to the life of a simple professorship if they won the war. She found that some days, everyone calling her Professor only seemed to remind her of that fact.

He straightened his glasses as he stammered, “O-Oh… I couldn’t…”

Catherine laughed jovially from her seat off to Byleth’s right where she was maintaining Thunderbrand—bones, heart, bones—with a steady hand. Without looking up from her work she commented,

“These kids still adore you after all this time. It’s actually pretty impressive.”

She hummed, “The feeling is mutual,” smiling slightly over to Ignatz, who’s eyes widened before he lowered the journal he was formally clasping to his chest and began scribbling again. Leonie leaned over again to watch him work, and soon after, Lorenz came to join her.

“An excellent likeness, Ignatz. There is such life within even your sketches. Why, it feels as if she’s staring right into your very soul.”

She stood as she eagerly said, “May I see?” She loved it when Ignatz would allow her a glance of whatever project he was working on in his spare time at the monastery. She had hoped that he would find a way to pursue his passion after graduating from the Academy, though the war had obviously put a damper on such prospects.

“I-It’s not done,” he stammered, nervously adjusting his glasses. She walked around the fire and stood beside Leonie as she looked down at the notebook, only to find a drawing of a woman that looked like her, but was far too… Well, she lacked the necessary wording. The woman was ethereally beautiful, staring directly at the viewer with a look that somehow managed to be both kind and piercing, just as Lorenz had commented. Her smile was gentle, almost not even there, but the look in her eyes made it appear so. It was wonderful, truly a mark of the skill he had honed over the last few years.

She breathlessly asked, “How long have you been working on this?”

“O-Oh… well… here and there since Raph and I arrived at the monastery. I’m sorry, did you not want me to—”

She placed a hand on his shoulder and assured him, “Ignatz, it’s absolutely beautiful. You are very talented.”

His grip on the notebook tightened as he seemed to summon the courage to say, “You see, I had this idea… I’d like to do a portrait of you, for once the war is over. I was hoping I could sketch you while you spar, and I have a few rough sketches, but if you’re willing…?”

She shook her head, feeling a bit incredulous as she answered, “I’m honored, I just… I don’t see why…”

“I would think it obvious,” Lorenz commented, a hand elegantly bent beneath his chin. 

“Yeah, Professor!” Raphael chimed in through a mouthful of food. “Lots of people look up to you!”

Lorenz cleared his throat and sent a reproachful look toward Raphael before continuing, “A fact that will only become more pervasive throughout Fodlan if you truly manage to end the war as you are so determined to. You have managed to charm everyone around you. To compel them to trust and follow you. That is no mean feat. In fact, it is altering the course of Fodlan. Quite honestly, I’d say you’ve always been that way, since the moment you arrived at the monastery.”

Leonie nodded as she said, “Lorenz has got a point.”

“Why, thank you,” Lorenz preened, making Leonie roll her eyes.

“I didn’t see it at first,” Catherine commented, still working on her blade, “why Lady Rhea was so interested in you… But I was foolish to doubt her judgement. Your sword skills are impeccable, you’re a gifted leader without any sort of formal training, and your former students still adore you, to the point that some of them have turned their backs on their homelands to follow you. Someone with all of your exceptional qualities shouldn’t exist but… here you are.”

Her cheeks felt far too warm to be comfortable, but it seemed her attempts to hide it were wasted. Lorenz chuckled and commented in obvious delight, “My, my, Professor. I must say I never thought you capable of blushing so.”

She shook her head and went back over to her seat on the other side of the fire as she answered, “That would be because I don’t make a habit of doing it.” Catherine and Leonie both snorted in amusement as Raphael laughed and leaned over to pat her on the back.

“Humble, despite your power and skill. See?” Lorenz turned toward Leonie and motioned toward her with his hand. “Charming.”

“How terrible for you that she’s a lowly commoner,” Leonie mockingly bemoaned, coming over to sit beside Byleth with another roll of her eyes. Maybe spending time around Lorenz was going to make the poor woman roll them right out of her head.

Lorenz made an affronted noise before stating, “I am not certain why her pedigree would have any impact on myself?”

“Well, if you admire her so…” Leonie wiggled her eyebrows suggestively, making Lorenz flush. “But she’s a commoner, and you’re…”

“Lorenz,” she finished with a small smirk that she hid behind her hand. The number of young women who came to her with complaints about Lorenz during the months they spent at the Officer’s Academy was unsettling. She wasn’t even his professor, but the young women felt that Hanneman wasn’t doing anything to handle it, and Manuela was nearly as bad about propositioning any male that suited her fancy. The worst part was definitely that he always went off on the same tirade about pedigree and the duty he felt toward an advantageous marriage. It wasn’t a new concept, she’d heard plenty about it from Sylvain, but it seemed like something Lorenz thrived on rather than resented as Sylvain did.

_Sylvain…_

Lorenz put a hand to his forehead as he sighed, “I assume you are speaking of my prior requirement that my future spouse come from a noble line?”

“Prior?” Leonie raised a skeptical brow.

“I once thought that commoners lacked the power to influence the wider world, as history might suggest. You see, to find a commoner who made a real impact, one had to look all the way back to Nemesis.” She dropped her gaze to the fire, fighting to keep her features neutral at the mention of that monster. “That was my belief at any rate. But I have since realized that I have actually had an influential commoner right in front of me all along.”

Leonie threw a twig into the fire as she dryly joked, “Wow, Lorenz… why don’t you just buy her a ring already?”

She was about to beg the purple-haired noble not to do such a thing, when Lorenz adamantly shook his head. “It is not to say that the Professor is the one for whom I wish to change my prior requirements. But rather, she has helped me to open my eyes to the absurdity of my former actions. I have always sought to embody the ideal of nobility. That, at least, is a goal I continue to stand by. But now I know that bloodline is not sufficient to gauge a person’s worth. You are also a commoner, Leonie, but you are one of the most capable, exceptional people I know. Certainly you are worth far more than someone simply born of a noble line.” Lorenz’s face suddenly turned about as red as Sylvain’s hair before he cleared his throat and turned away from the fire. “Now… if you’ll excuse me, I believe I will retire for the evening.”

She chanced a glance at Leonie through her hair, only to find the young woman sitting very very still, her cheeks a rosy pink as she watched Lorenz walk away. Raphael tried and failed to staunch his laughter with his fist, and at the sound of his escaped snort, Ignatz chuckled quietly into his notebook, still looking between it and her as he scribbled. She nudged Leonie with her shoulder and idly commented, “Hey, remember that time you threatened to show Lorenz how far you could stick your foot up his noble—”

Everyone burst out laughing as Leonie abruptly stood and interrupted, “You know what? I think I’m gonna go to bed, too. Goodnight, guys.” 

The next day’s ride went smoothly, and they found themselves approaching Derdriu in the late afternoon. It was truly odd how familiar everything felt without any distinct memories of having been here before. Her memories before the Academy, aside from her time spent in Gautier, were murky at best. Had she been here with her father? Had they worked any jobs in the Aquatic City when she was younger?

Just another question she would ask if Jeralt were here.

As they were led through the gates of Claude’s estate by some of his staff, she found herself blown away by the elegant gardens that sprawled across the grounds. The mansion itself wasn’t nearly as big as Felix’s or Sylvain’s family homes (which were really more like castles, now that she thought about it) but it reeked of luxury in a way that nothing in the Kingdom of Faerghus did. She supposed that made sense, what with the differences in culture between the two nations. Those from the Kingdom were known as people built for cold and war, while the Alliance as a whole was known for its wealth and its political theater. It made sense that the Riegan family—who held the most power within the Alliance—would have plenty of wealth to flaunt.

Speaking of Riegan, Claude stood at the top of an elegant marble staircase, his arms nearly as wide as his smile as stable hands came to take their horses and various servants scurried about to take their bags. She snagged the Sword of the Creator and belted it to her side, not because she wanted to hold it—she avoided it whenever she could—but rather because she didn’t know what would happen if it was held by one that didn’t bear a Crest. Several of the servants were gaping at her as she did so, and she was grateful that she hadn’t bothered dressing in any sort of regalia for their arrival. She covered the blade with her traveling cloak before stepping forward with the others.

Claude looked… well… _ridiculously handsome_. She had thought so when he was sweaty and dressed in stolen armor. But now, dressed in golden-threaded regalia befitting a Duke, she couldn’t help but notice how mature and downright regal he looked. Also handsome… did she think about how handsome he was now already? She shook the thought away as Claude greeted, “Friends! It’s so nice to see you all, though I must say I wish it were under different circumstances.” She smiled back, appreciating the warmth that melted into Claude’s features as she did so.

“Yes, yes,” Lorenz huffed with a flip of his hair, “surely that would feel more genuine if we didn’t know this was exactly what you wanted to happen all along, Claude.”

“Come now, Lorenz, let’s not fight. Isn’t the whole purpose of this visit to build relationships?” Claude winked to her before holding out his hand. It was so reminiscent of the ball at Garreg Mach that a rush of something coursed through her. Perhaps sadness? A sort of longing for those days that were long gone, but so recent in her memory? Either way she took it, and Claude looped it through his arm and started leading them up the stairs.

As they walked, he called back to the others, “Gertrude will lead the rest of you to your rooms while I speak with Teach on a few matters of business. We’ll meet for dinner once everyone has had the chance to clean up and rest from your journey. Sound good?”

Raphael excitedly hollered, “Food! Yes!” with a pump of his fist.

“I’ve got snacks waiting for you in your room, Raph, don’t you worry.” The ornamental double doors were opened for them, and she gaped despite herself as she took in the decadence of the Riegan family home. A massive chandelier hung over an elegant staircase that led up to the next floor. Gold trimmed the walls and ceilings, the ceilings bearing a gorgeous mural she supposed was depicting some sort of battle from the Crescent Moon war with how often the moon-shaped Crest of Riegan was painted throughout. 

Claude gave her a moment to gawk before chuckling quietly. “I promise I’ll give you the grand tour later, Teach. For now, I have someone I want you to meet.”

“Cassie?” She turned, feeling hopeful for a flight, even if she had been on horseback the last two days. 

“No, though I’m definitely informing Nardel that you would have preferred to meet Cassie first.” Warmth rushed to her cheeks, making Claude laugh in apparent delight. “Don’t worry, he’ll love it. Come on.” They walked up the stairs, and while the others went to the left, they went to the right. She tried to keep track of the turns they took, but she knew she was lost as they stopped in front of a set of sturdy oak doors. Claude knocked what was likely a code before opening the door, and her eyes landed on a mountain of a man—and she had plenty of experience with large men, including the likes of her father—with dark skin and the scars of a seasoned warrior. Her fingers twitched with desire at the thought of a rousing spar, but she found that those thoughts fled her mind as the man turned around.

He was Almyran. 

She’d had… suspicions… about Claude’s heritage, as had her father, but she had never pushed because she knew how touchy Claude was on the subject. However, now she was fairly certain where Claude’s father was from. She pushed the thought aside as the man’s eyes, nearly golden in the light streaming through the window, appraised her. 

“Teach, I’d like you to meet Nardel, the man that made our most recent scheme possible.” Nardel’s face lit up with obvious interest as he walked around the desk to extend a hand to her. 

She clasped his forearm in a standard warrior’s greeting, and he released a booming laugh. His deep voice echoed through the study as he said, “I was a bit concerned when House Goneril’s army intervened from the east, but it seems to have worked in our favor.”

She turned to Claude and asked, “Gloucester requested backup, then? Is that going to sway Goneril’s decision making?”

Nardel answered in Claude’s stead. “They had that young general who won some acclaim from his battles in Almyra… But don’t you worry, he didn’t seem to have any true desire to attack us, but merely a desire to fulfill his family’s obligations to House Gloucester.” He released her arm as he added, “I must admit, it’s nice to have a face to put to the nickname, though you aren’t at all what I would have expected from the ki—from Master Claude’s stories of you.”

She hummed, “And I wasn’t expecting an Almyran to be working as a retainer for Duke Riegan of all people. Nor that Claude’s retainer would be an experienced warrior.” She turned to Claude and lifted an inquisitive eyebrow.

Claude rubbed the back of his neck as he nervously chuckled, “Caught onto all that, did ya? He may not have been born in Fodlan, but trust me when I say he’s highly capable and trustworthy.”

She shook her head. “You know I don’t care about things like that. Though I am very interested in the spar you mentioned.” She turned to face Nardel and raised an eyebrow as she asked, “I don’t suppose you’d mind going a few rounds?”

Nardel threw his head back as he released another booming laugh and clapped Claude on the back so hard that he stumbled forward a step. “I _like_ her.”

Claude winked at her before teasing, “She was disappointed that I was bringing her up here instead of to the aviary to meet Cassie.”

“I haven’t been in the sky since…” she trailed off before shaking her head, trying not to get emotional as she thought about Emery.

Claude draped an arm over her shoulders as he explained, “Teach’s first wyvern died in battle while she was missing.”

“That’s too bad,” Nardel sighed, sounding truly sympathetic. 

“But that’s war, isn’t it?” She chuckled quietly and shook her head once more. “Anyway, I’m looking forward to that flight you promised me.”

Claude beamed as he said, “We will, Teach.”

“When are the other lords arriving for the Conference?”

“Holst and Hilda will likely be here some time tomorrow, while Lysinthea, Count Ordelia, Marianne, and Margrave Edmund will likely be here the day after. I’m not certain when Count Gloucester will arrive, but the Conference is set in two days’ time and he has no choice but to show up.”

She sighed. “I take it he received my missive, then.”

Claude winked. “That he did. He knows Lorenz is safe, and that is of vital importance as we go into the Conference, but we’ll discuss all of that business later. For now, why don’t I show you to your room so you can get cleaned up for dinner?” 

“It was nice to meet you.” Nardel crossed an arm over his chest and bowed slightly. Then with a devious wink he added, “I look forward to our spar.”

She eagerly asked, “Tomorrow morning?” 

Nardel laughed as he began to nod, though he stopped as Claude interjected, “You’re going to steal my retainer while you’re here, aren’t you?” His eyes twinkling with amusement.  
She shrugged. “Well, I’ll have Holst to occupy some of my free time once he arrives, won’t I?”

“Gods, you’re…” Claude chuckled as he shook his head, seemingly giving up on whatever it was he was going to say, and instead sighing, “It’s nice to have you back, Teach.”

Dinner was a lively affair, as most things were with the Golden Deer. She sat and ate, watching them bicker and laugh amongst themselves from her seat beside Claude. Once they were finished, Claude leaned over to whisper, “I’ll pick you up at your room in an hour.” She nodded minutely and his eyes lit up with his excitement. She was glad that he was no longer the boy whose smile didn’t reach his eyes.

She paced around her room, idly looking over the various trinkets within it as she waited for Claude. At a quiet knock, she quickly made her way to the door and slipped out to see Claude, dressed in riding clothes. He took her hand as he brought a finger to his lips in a hushing motion, and then proceeded to lead her through the halls, being mindful of not running into any of the few members of the service staff who were still wandering about doing their duties. 

Once they had reached the outside he merrily explained, “Service staff talk. As much as I trust the ones I still have, I can’t rely on them not to gab if I’m seen traipsing about with the acting Archbishop of the Church of Seiros after dark.”

She placed a hand over her unbeating heart as she hummed, “Oh, the scandal.”

He shoved her lightly as he chided, “Come on, Teach, I’m sure you deal with the same stuff.”

She shrugged, “Seteth tried the whole propriety thing, but I told him that I’m only acting Archbishop. I figure as long as I’m actively trying to end the war and find Rhea, I can do whatever I please.” Something passed over Claude’s expression, but it was gone before she could place it. “Besides, I’ve been monitored by various people at all times since I woke up for my own ‘safety’. I can’t remember the last time there wasn’t someone sleeping in my room.”

He teased, “Oh? Taking some interesting bedfellows, then?”

She shrugged again as she coyly responded, “Maybe?”

“Are you trying to make me jealous, Teach? Did someone take my place as your kissing friend?” She rolled her eyes as she shook her head.

“You and your ‘kissing friendship’…” She sighed and leaned against Claude’s arm as they approached the aviary toward the back of the property. “I’ve missed you.”

Claude fondly murmured, “You have no idea, Teach.”

He hushed her as they entered the aviary, and she spotted several wyverns roosting higher up, many sleeping, though a few had opened their eyes to inspect them as they walked in. Claude whistled a short tune and the telltale sound of wings proceeded the landing of a gorgeous albino wyvern. 

She breathed out, “Claude, she’s gorgeous…” Too busy staring in awe at the majestic creature in front of her to notice that he had left her side to approach the wyvern. Cassiopeia was far bigger than any wyvern she had ever seen, and a startling white compared to the various shades of brown that she normally expected. Cassie’s eyes were golden, and they shimmered in the torchlight as they analyzed her from head to toe, even as she nuzzled against Claude’s chest with a happy trill.

Claude whispered, laughter in his tone, “Cassie, girl… this is Teach.”

She held out her hand to Cassie and whispered, “Hello.” The wyvern begrudgingly left Claude’s side to approach her, sniffing the air as if she could tell by her smell whether she was worthy of her attention or not. The wyvern then made a low hum in the back of her throat before nuzzling into her chest.

“Wow!” Claude chuckled quietly as he walked over to stand by her once more, and she began to pet along Cassieopia’s chin. “She normally hates everyone but Marianne. I gotta say, I’m impressed. I hoped she’d like you, but I wasn’t completely sure. Shame on me, I guess.”

She continued to scratch Cassie as she cooed, “I’m honored that you deem me worthy of your attention, pretty girl.” A small purr emanated from the wyvern, and Claude shook his head.  
He playfully whined, “Hey, now. No stealing my wyvern, Teach! That’s not fair!”

She continued to address the wyvern as she cooed, “I’m not going to steal you... I’m just going to love on you for a bit. Is that alright?” Cassie lifted her head and licked up the side of her face—which was a bit unpleasant—making Claude laugh so hard he began coughing. Cassie made a sound of concern and left her to go and check on her rider, but was satisfied he was alright once Claude stood up straight again and began scratching her.

He cooed, “What do you say, girl? You up for a night flight?” Cassie trilled in excitement and crouched down so Claude could saddle her, and in no time they were leaping into the air and taking to the skies. A cheerful laugh escaped her as Cassie picked up speed, obviously showing off, and flipped through the air. She clung onto Claude’s waist as they went, burying her face in his shoulder until they had leveled out and began to soar in the direction of the water. 

Derdriu was stunning from the skies, even at this time of night. The Aquatic city was still lit up below them, the lights reflecting on the darkness of the water until they soared out further over the open ocean. Soon, all she could see was the stars and the moon reflected below them, making it look like they were soaring through endless sky. She let go of Claude and held her arms out at her sides, tipping her head back to look up at the endless sea of stars above them and feel the air slipping through her fingers.

When she closed her eyes, she could almost imagine what it would feel like to fly on her own. She jolted slightly at the thought, and wondered whether her love of flying stemmed from her connection to Sothis. She pushed the errant thought away, not wanting to consider such things at a moment like this. 

This was exactly what she needed. That almost-forgotten feeling of her problems fading to the back of her mind eased some of the near-constant pressure in her chest, and she suddenly felt so much lighter than she had before. She wrapped her arms around Claude’s waist once more and said, “Thank you for this.”

He clasped a hand on her arm as he softly answered, “Anytime, Teach.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another chapter already? Look at me! The next two chapters will be while Byleth is away from the monastery, but we'll still hear from our boys, no worries. 
> 
> Have a great week, guys!


	31. If I Follow The Light That I Deem The Brightest, I Won't Believe That It's Always Like This

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Chapter title pulled from "Always Like This" by Bombay Bicycle Club 
> 
> Felix gets to know Yuri a little better and finds a moment to mourn. Byleth learns an interesting fact about her past and prepares for the Roundtable Conference.

~Felix~

He had a job to do, and damn it he was going to do it and he was going to do it _well_. It didn’t mean that he liked what he realized he needed to do in order to do said job well. In order to keep Byleth safe from all of those that would take her from him—them… but he would do it nonetheless. 

Thus, the reason he was walking through the tunnels of Abyss, wracking his brain to remember how he was supposed to get where he was going, and silently praying to whatever the hell was out there that he wouldn’t get lost in these endless tunnels, never to be found again.

He hated it down here.

He wouldn’t allow himself a sigh of relief when he turned a corner and found the Abysskeeper, but he felt his shoulders unwind just a bit all the same. The man greeted him warmly enough, which was also a relief because he wasn’t sure what sort of reaction he was going to receive from the people of Abyss. Things were still a bit tense down here due to the attack a few weeks ago.  
He asked the Abysskeeper, “Do you know where Yuri is? I need to speak with him.”

“I haven’t seen him come by his office yet, so he might still be in his room.” The man—rather unhelpfully—gestured vaguely down a set of stairs near them, and Felix glanced down them before turning back. Realizing the Abysskeeper wasn’t going to be of any additional help, he nodded and walked down the steps indicated with a hand on the hilt of his sword. 

As he entered what appeared to be a marketplace of some sort, he pondered the fact that he had only been this far into Abyss on the first night he came down here—when Yuri had basically kidnapped Byleth—but he was far too distracted by his rage and fear to take in his surroundings that night. Not that that meant anything because he distinctly remembered that they had been alone amongst deserted stalls, and that was not the case today. People of all shapes and sizes made their way through the throng of people, sometimes greeting those around them but most keeping to themselves. A woman that was missing most of her teeth looked him over before smiling coyly with a little giggle. He nodded curtly back, unsure of what else to do, before awkwardly turning away. 

As he was surveying the area, trying to decide whether he was willing to ask for help in finding Yuri or just cutting his losses and going back to the surface, something brushed against his leg and he looked down to see a small black and white Bergliez Shorthair. He glanced around to see if there was anyone watching him before squatting down and reaching into the inside pocket of his coat. He whispered, “Don’t rat me out to the others.” The cat meowed in gratitude before taking the bit of treat from his palm, nuzzling into his hand shortly after, likely in an attempt to coax more out of him.

“Wolfie?” He abruptly stood, gaining a hiss of protest from the feline at his feet before it strode off in search of its next victim. He looked up to see the women that made up the other half of the Ashen Wolves—he was fairly certain their names were Hapi and Constance—striding toward him arm in arm. The redhead was the one who always called him that awful nickname. Her pinkish eyes surveyed him as she apathetically commented, “It’s odd to see you down here without Pokerface.”

“Well, she’s not here right now, is she?” he snapped. It was a fact that he was actively trying not to think about, thank you very much. Thinking about the fact that she wasn’t here led to thinking about the fact that she was with Claude, and thinking about the fact that she was with Claude led to him wanting to punch something.

(He thought about it often. He’d essentially done nothing but train since they'd arrived back at the monastery.)

“I know that,” the redhead responded with a shrug of her shoulders. “What do you want?”

“Hapi,” the blonde lightly chided as she pulled the redhead ever closer. “Surely one should use their manners—”

“I need to talk to Yuri.” Constance gave a huff of protest about being interrupted, but he found that he much preferred Hapi’s direct way of doing things. They might even get along if it weren’t for that nickname. He wasn’t a lone wolf. At least… he wasn’t anymore.

“I’m not even sure he’s up yet, but we can go check.” He supposed it was still relatively early, he was normally an early riser as a force of habit. “He was out late on some meeting or other, or normally he’d be up by now.” He hummed in acknowledgement and followed the women as they led him down another stone staircase and further into the tunnels of Abyss.

He did his best to pay attention to where they were going until they eventually stopped in front of a nondescript door. Hapi knocked lightly and called, “Yuri-bird, Wolfie’s here to see you.”

There was a moment of rustling before the door swung open on a half-dressed, freshly bathed Yuri, though weirdly still with a full face of makeup. Water droplets from his hair made his pale skin glimmer in the torchlight as evaluative lavender eyes settled on him. The trickster leaned his lithe form against the door frame as he asked, “Guard Dog… what brings you to my neck of the woods?”

He gritted his teeth and took a steadying breath, before saying, “I need your help.” Yuri’s eyes twinkled in a way that reminded him of Sylvain’s smug face. The fact that the face reminded him of his lover certainly didn’t make the desire to deck him lessen.

“Oh, I’m sure that was painful,” he cooed, all mock-sympathy as he opened the door wider. At Felix’s grunt of displeasure, Yuri’s attitude smoothly shifted into something far more business-like. “What exactly do you need? Just asking for help is quite vague, you see.”

“These mages… they are after Byleth. I need to train against enemies that can Warp.” Yuri’s smile sharpened and a look of downright glee settled over his features. He very much felt like the canary to Yuri's cat.

“Oh, we can help you with that.”

“We?” Hapi interjected, raising an eyebrow in what looked like protest.

Yuri cooed, “Come on, it’s for our lovely friend, Poker Face.” Hapi rolled her eyes but nodded in affirmation anyway. Lavender eyes landed on him once more as he was waved away. “Why don’t you head up to the training grounds, and we’ll meet you there when we’re ready?”

“Fine.” He began to turn away to walk back toward where he hoped the surface was, but he stopped to turn back and mumble a quiet, “Thank you.”

“Oh, don’t thank me yet, Guard Dog.” Yuri chuckled darkly and just before shutting the door he ominously muttered, “This is going to be fun.”

Of course, Yuri was going to make him wait. He wasn’t sure why he was expecting the trickster nuisance to be prompt in his arrival. He continued to work out his frustrations on a dummy until he felt _something_ stir the air just behind him. He jabbed blindly with an elbow, getting ready to thrust his sword back, but he suddenly realized he already felt steel against his throat.

“I see why we’re doing this,” Yuri gloated, still holding a dagger to his throat as he huffed in frustration.

“Uhhh… is everything alright over there?” Caspar looked between them in confusion from a few dummies over, but he waved the blue-haired fighter off.

He put his hands up as a sign that he was yielding before growling, “I asked you to help me, not to be an asshole.”

Yuri released him and twirled the dagger around his finger by a loop at the edge of the blade’s handle. He then purred, “You probably should have put that in the fine print, then. Oh look, there’s another free lesson for you.” He winked and then asked, “How’s your aim, Guard Dog?”

He lifted an inquisitive eyebrow. “Aim?”

Without taking lavender eyes off of him, Yuri flicked his wrist and sent the dagger in his hand straight into the head of the dummy he had previously been working on. “Your aim?” he asked again.

“Why do I need daggers?” He lifted the training sword in his hand. “I have this, and I have magic.”

Yuri vanished in a flash of light and he dropped into a defensive stance, only for Yuri to reappear five yards away on his left. Before he could dodge, Yuri launched a weakened Nosferatu spell at him, striking him in the left shoulder. He hissed as he felt the usual draining effects, but nevertheless charged forward, only for Yuri to already have his sword drawn. As he parried the incoming blow he calmly stated, “Depending on your situation, spells take time and concentration to cast. In battle, you’ll have your shield ready, but what about when you and Byleth are walking down the hall in the monastery? Drawing your sword is too slow, you don’t have time to cast, so what will you do?”

He grimaced, realizing the asshole was right. Yuri vanished again right as he was swiping with his sword, and he quickly shifted his weight to a defensive stance as he quickly scanned the area. Yuri had warped to the center of the floor. “Pay attention.” He failed to recognize where the dagger suddenly appeared from before Yuri threw it toward where Constance had warped in just behind another training dummy. The dagger sank in at her eye level.

She indignantly huffed, “Must you cut things so very closely?”

“I think that’s kinda the point Coco,” Hapi chimed in as she stepped out from behind a pillar. Was this what took them so long? Were they planning an elaborate joint-lesson of some kind? These Wolves were a weird lot.

Yuri turned to meet his gaze. “Daggers aren’t exactly practical for excessive usage in combat, but they are certainly useful against assassins.” He had to admit that Yuri was weirdly good at teaching. Well, teaching people like him. He could see where Mercedes or Ashe would be put-off by Yuri’s way of doing things.

He nodded toward the dagger that Yuri had thrown a moment prior. “Where’d that come from?”

Yuri’s smile was dangerous as he purred, “I’m full of sharp edges, Guard Dog. Not unlike yourself.” Hapi walked over and handed a worn-out satchel over to Yuri before crossing her arms under her chest. Yuri nodded in thanks before rifling through it. Once he found whatever he was looking for, he tossed it at him, and he caught it easily. “Here’s one more for you.”

He looked over the leather strap, eyeing it curiously. A long thin blade sat snug in its holster, attached to some sort of mechanism. “Our lovely mercenary friend has her holster right on her hip for easy access. Came in handy when she took out Maggie a few weeks ago.” Yuri’s eyes took on a menacing tint as he strode forward. “However, I like to be a bit more discreet. I thought you might like to try things my way.” The fingers on Yuri’s left hand flinched before a blade appeared in his palm. 

Nodding, he placed his training sword on the ground before stripping off his jacket. Yuri showed him how to strap on the holster, and how to activate it. “I have more holsters that will go well with those _delicious_ boots of yours.” He scowled as Yuri looked him over lecherously, but Yuri just winked, looking for all the world like they shared a salacious secret of some sort. It was _extremely_ annoying. “You’ll need to work with the blades first. Don’t go throwing them around without practice or you’ll accidentally cut up our lovely mutual friend. And we can’t have that, can we?” Yuri strode back over to what seemed to be a bag of tricks before rolling out a length of fabric with small pockets full of the thin blades similar to the one in the holster now strapped to his forearm.

That seemed a simple enough task. He’d practice with the targets as long as he needed to until he had it down. It was just another thing to add to his training rotation. He prodded, “What about in battle?”

Yuri smirked before strolling over to Hapi. “That, Guard Dog, will take practice. Lots of it.” Yuri crossed his arms and moved his weight to one hip before ordering, “Close your eyes.” He lifted an eyebrow and glared at him. “What? You don’t trust me?”

He huffed, “No.”

Yuri chuckled in amusement before he began to circle him, not unlike a predator taunting their prey—not that he would let the likes of Yuri intimidate him. The lavender-haired menace casually said, “I’ve seen what happens to the people who hurt Byleth’s friends. You really think I’d cause harm to her precious swordsman?” He fluttered his lashes before cooing, “Her very first friend? The beautiful boy that always smiled at her and held her hand?”

Annoyingly enough, warmth spread to his cheeks as he tried to keep Yuri in his line of sight. Had she really said that? To Yuri? The guy she was sleeping with? 

_Were_ they still sleeping together? 

Hapi gave something of a half-chuckle before mockingly asking, “You used to smile?”

In the half second that he used to shoot a glare in Hapi’s direction, Yuri warped to the opposite end of the training floor and cast a weak Aura spell. He rolled out of the way just in time to avoid it and was quickly back on his feet. “You have to be paying attention to the magic in the air around you. Just like you can recognize when a sigil is being formed,” as if on cue, Hapi began casting a Miasma spell and he rolled out of the way once more, “you need to sense when someone is Warping. There’s a slight difference in the feel of a standard Warp spell, my warping, and these dark mages warping, but as long as you’ve internalized the instinct to react, you should be prepared when it happens in battle or outside of it.”

He tried not to pant as he insisted, “Next time I’m bringing my shield.” If they were training for a battle setting, it would be necessary to practice with the weight of his Relic. It would slow him down, but hopefully that wouldn't matter with enough practice.

Yuri’s eyebrow inched upwards as he asked, “Next time?” 

He snapped, “You are the one that said I’ll need practice.”

“Oh, I’m not saying I won’t train with you. However…” he paused as a smirk curled his lips, “…you will owe me a favor.”

He narrowed his eyes at Yuri, who didn’t seem affected by the glare in the slightest. “What kind of favor?”

“Ah! Already took my lesson about the fine print to heart, I see.” Yuri chuckled as he closed the distance between them. He attempted to move away as the other man got close, but Yuri rolled his eyes and leaned in to whisper, “I’ll continue training you, if you get in a room with Bernadetta. Alone.”

He recoiled as he snarled, “What do you want with her?”

“To talk,” Yuri shrugged, completely calm even as Felix felt the tension curling in his shoulders and neck. “She always runs away when I try to introduce myself.”

“Maybe she just doesn’t like you.”

Something flashed in lavender eyes, but he wasn’t certain what it was. For a moment, he wondered whether it was insecurity. Was it even possible for the pompous man in front of him to feel such a thing? Yuri’s lip curled as he asked, “Are you going to help or not?”

“No. Not if you aren’t going to tell me what it is you actually want with Bernadetta.”

Yuri flipped his hair over his shoulder before drawling, “I bet it gets exhausting being this uptight. Think you could just trust me on this one?” 

He shook his head firmly. “Bernadetta has been through enough. If you don’t have a good reason for wishing to speak with her, I’m not going to force her to meet with you.” Even if the idea of missing out on the additional training was disappointing. Bernadetta still got emotional when it came to even _looking_ at Yuri, he wouldn’t force her into a conversation with the man without good reason, and Yuri introducing himself certainly wasn’t good enough.

Yuri heaved a sigh and put a hand to his forehead. “Look…” He stepped even closer and Felix was briefly taken aback by the sincerity in his features. “I need to speak with her. I keep trying, but she just shouts and runs away.”

“That would be because she thinks you look like—” Suddenly, it all clicked in his brain and he growled, “Wait. You’re Jas—”

“Shh!” Yuri held out his hands in an attempt to silence him.

He batted away Yuri’s hands as he quietly hissed, “How could you not say anything?! After all these years?! You understand she thinks you’re dead! And she blames herself!”

The genuine guilt was replaced by Yuri’s usual suave façade as he leaned back and curled a hand elegantly beneath his chin. He casually responded, “It’s a rather complicated tale, and one that I would rather discuss with Bernadetta, herself. So, now that you know why… Do we have a deal?”

He continued to glare at Yuri as he considered it. Bernadetta would probably be relieved to discover that her friend was alive and well, but it would also be a trying ordeal for her to go through. Not to mention the fact that he wasn’t thrilled at the idea of Yuri being close with Bernadetta. Wasn’t he enough of a nuisance already?

But… if it might help her…

“Fine,” he gritted out, crossing his arms and glaring off to the side. “I’ll help you. But if you hurt her in any way, I swear I’ll—”

Yuri waved a hand nonchalantly through the air. “Yes, yes, vague threats from Guard Dog. Haven’t we been through all of this before?”

He looked the trickster up and down before muttering, “Just when I was starting to respect you.” 

Yuri frowned minutely, but it was gone in a flash, replaced by a sharp smile that showed far too many teeth to be genuine. “Are you ready to begin?”

“More than.”

By the time each of the mages had used up their magic stores, he was also thoroughly exhausted. Yuri, Hapi, and Constance had gotten a few fair jabs at him before he could react, and his body ached with their reminders, even after a quick healing session with Manuela—who clicked her tongue in disapproval and chided him for overdoing it before sending him on his way.

Yuri was waiting for him outside the infirmary, leaning elegantly against the wall as he stared unseeing down at the floor. It was unusual to see Yuri brooding, he was used to the trickster’s usual aloof air. He made sure to step heavily, drawing the other man’s attention without having to say anything. Lavender eyes snapped up to his immediately at the sound. “We have a deal, right?”

He crossed his arms and watched Yuri carefully as he sharply asked, “Why now? You’ve been around for months. You could have done this any time.”

Yuri couldn’t seem to meet his gaze, and his normal airy tone was strained as he said, “I thought it would be better if I didn’t tell her. I’m not the same person I was then, and I thought not telling her would spare her, but after going back to Castle Varley…” He trailed off as he looked back down at the ground. Lavender eyes came back up to meet his, and he was surprised by the softness he found there. “Look. What you are for Byleth, Bernadetta is for me. Do you get it, now?”

“What I am to Byleth? What are you talking about?”

Yuri groaned and put a hand to his forehead before snapping, “I’m not going to hold your hand through this if you still don’t get it. Are you going to keep your end of our deal, or not?”

He could see how uncomfortable Yuri was with even the tiniest bit of information that he had given, and he idly considered the fact that he and Yuri might be more alike than he had initially thought. He glared off toward the stairs as he said, “Give me an hour. Meet us in the greenhouse.” The location might help to keep her calm. Well... calmer.

“Fine.” Yuri walked further down the hallway with a flutter of his cape, and he made his way to the stairs, hoping to get to the baths before talking to Bernadetta.

He hesitantly knocked on Bernadetta’s door, shifting his weight from side-to-side. Honestly, he hadn’t considered what it is he was supposed to say to get her to go. He wasn’t going to trick her into it, manipulation wasn’t his thing. Would he even be able to get her to go with him?

“W-who is it?”

“It’s me, Bernadetta. I have a slice of cake from the dining hall for you.” He was sort of hoping that the cake would soften the blow. He knew Bernadetta had quite the affinity for sweets, she’d eaten her fair share in Fraldarius. His mother loved having someone that had a similar palette around.

The door cracked open enough for Bernadetta to look out at him. “Felix? I-is everything okay? You look upset.”

He sighed, “Everything is fine. Can I come in?” Bernadetta nodded quickly before opening the door further and stepping aside for him. Her crafting supplies were laid out on the bed, and it looked as if she was sewing a stuffed animal or something, though he couldn’t make out exactly what it was supposed to be. 

As Bernadetta shut the door he turned to face her and said, “Yuri would like to speak with you.” Nothing for it to be blunt, he supposed.

“Y-yuri?” She clasped her hands in front of her chest and began to tremble.

“He’s not going to hurt you, I promise. I think you should talk to him.”

A sliver of curiosity peeked through Bernadetta’s usual state of anxiety. “W-why?”

“Do you trust me?” It was a heavy question, and he was more than a little taken aback to find that she didn’t need to think about it at all before nodding. It caught him be surprise so thoroughly that his answering, “Then trust me when I say you should talk to him,” was severely delayed. It felt so… weird… to have her trust like that. Bernadetta didn’t trust anyone, and for good reason. Why on earth would she trust him?

He really hoped this conversation wasn’t about to go terribly, or she would never trust him again.

Bernadetta worried at her lip as she considered it for several tense moments. Just before he was about to cave and tell her to forget about it, she stammered, “W-would you stay with m-me? W-while we talk?”

He doubted Yuri would like it, but nevertheless he answered, “If you need me to.” He shoved the slice of cake toward her and said, “Eat this, then we’ll go.”

“O-okay.”

Buoyed somewhat by the sweets, Bernadetta latched onto his arm as they walked toward the greenhouse. It was the middle of the day, but when they opened the door, they found the place empty except for Yuri, who was pacing amongst the flowers. Yuri looked up at their entrance, and after making sure no one else was in the greenhouse, he turned and bolted the door so they wouldn’t be disturbed.

As soon as he was done, Bernadetta moved behind him, still holding his arm in a nearly bruising grip. She then tremulously shouted, “L-look Yuri, I brought Felix with me, so if you want to hurt me, you’re going to have to go through him!” 

Well, that made a lot more sense. The role of bodyguard felt a lot more comfortable than morale support had.

Yuri released a shocked guffaw before remarking, “As entertaining as that would be, I’m not here to hurt you. I just want to talk. I asked Felix to help me out because you’re quite the tricky woman to track down. You always seem to hide when I’m around.”

Her forehead slammed into his shoulder as she hid herself with a frantic, “S-sorry! Please forgive me!”

“Now, now, Bernadetta. If you hide your face like that, you won’t be able to see what I’ve brought you.”

“B-brought me?” She moved to look out past his shoulder and he bit back a sigh of frustration. Bodyguard or not, this was probably the most awkward situation he’d ever been in.

“Look.” Yuri reached into his pocket and pulled out a piece of lavender fabric, with what looked to be a flower embroidered on it, though the stitches were relatively crude.

Bernadetta’s grip on his arm became even tighter. “W-where… w-where did you get that?”

Yuri’s voice dropped to a coaxing tone, like the one you would use with a spooked animal. “You gave it to me, Bernadetta. I… I kept it, all this time. I couldn’t really tell you why, I just—” His finger stroked it gently as his eyes dropped to the ground.

He felt how Bernadetta’s entire body went stiff. “T-that’s impossible! I gave that to Jasper, and Jasper is dead! Dead, dead, dead! My father had him killed for being friends with me! I-I don’t know how you go that, but—"

Yuri incredulously chuckled, “Is that really what you think happened?”

“W-what?” Bernadetta froze, staring wide-eyed past his shoulder. “W-wait a second… how do you have that, anyway? Did you… did you know Jasper, or something? Was his final wish that you find me and kill me?!”

Yuri sighed, sounding more than a little weary of the fact that she wasn’t getting it. “I _was_ him, Bernadetta. I was Jasper.”

“B-but how did… b-but he… y-you…” Her breathing became shallow and panicked as she clung to him, until eventually he gave up on his current stance and turned to face her.

In the most soothing tone he could muster he said, “Bernadetta, it’s okay. Try to take deep breaths.”

She cried out, “I-I thought he died!” tears streaming down her face. _Fuck, this was a bad idea._

Yuri walked a little closer and awkwardly said, “You thought I had, but I hadn’t. I was halfway to my grave, but I survived.”

Bernadetta wiped fruitlessly at the tears streaming down her cheeks as she tremulously stammered, “Half…way? Then that means the half of you that survived is gonna seek revenge on me! You’ve come to kill me! Is that it? Y-you hate me, and now you’re going to make me pay!” Her breathing was still far too rapid to be healthy, and he was considering dragging her out. Perhaps this was too much for her in one go, maybe she needed all of the information in smaller doses. It was obvious this whole ordeal had been traumatic for her.

Yuri scoffed, “If I was to seek revenge, it would be the Count—not you. You are in no way responsible for what happened to me, Bernadetta. Besides, you wouldn’t be standing here talking to me right now if I’d targeted you.”

He turned his head to glare at Yuri as he quietly hissed, “Not helping.”

“Okay, just listen to me for a moment. Can you do that?” Yuri backed away with his hands raised innocently. “I’ll stand all the way over here, alright? I’m not going to hurt you, but there’s something I need to tell you.” Yuri sighed and dropped his hands before admitting, “The reason I worked for House Varley… was to kill you.” He jerked his head around to glare at Yuri. The bastard certainly hadn’t told him that part! He never would have brought Bernadetta if he had!

Bernadetta’s head lifted from his chest to look at Yuri with red-rimmed eyes. “B-but… why?”

“There were tons of people who wanted you wiped out. Like people that wanted to eradicate House Varley. Or a relative that wanted the glory for themselves. That particular breed of treacherous nobility … is the kind that would hire a kid to do their dirty work.” The mixture of sorrow and disdain that twisted Yuri’s features made anger flare in his chest. How could someone do something like that? They were children! Both of them!

Yuri quietly continued, “The first thing that kid would do? Get close to the target by befriending her, find an in through, say, an assistant gig.”

“J-Jasper…”

Yuri’s gaze dropped to the floor. “Yours truly. My biggest mistake? Getting to know you.” He sucked in a steadying breath before explaining, “I crept into your room one night and readied my blade. The whole thing had been a breeze up until that moment. But then… I couldn’t bring myself to do it.” Yuri looked back up, his features smoothed back into their usual façade. “While I hovered there, hesitating, your father came in. You know the rest.”

Bernadetta whimpered, “W-why are you telling me all this? I’m so confused…”

Yuri turned away from them as he sternly said, “Because I want you to look at it objectively. I was hired to kill you. Your father protected you from me, a filthy assassin. He was looking out for you. He may be a scumbag, but he did at least that.”

“Father… protected me? He… protected… me?”

“Yeah, why would I lie? Really, all of this means that none of the blame lies with you. In fact, at this point, I figure it’s you who hates me, and not the other way around.” Yuri stuck out the hand that still held the piece of fabric. “That’s why I brought you this. I don’t deserve to have it anymore. You should take it. I’ll leave you alone, now.”

Bernadetta didn’t move to take it, so Yuri grunted in frustration and placed it on the ledge of the nearest flowerbed. He turned to leave, but Bernadetta moved to place herself between Yuri and the door. “W-wait! I don’t hate you, Yuri! But I mean, I do feel weird… But I don’t know how to feel… I just…” She trailed off as she clasped her hands in front of her in supplication. She shook them as she pleaded, “Can’t we just be friends? Like back then?”

The look of absolute shock on Yuri’s usually calm features would almost be funny if it weren’t for the current situation. “You want to be friends…? With me?”

Bernadetta dropped her hands to clench them at her sides as she insisted, “The reason you couldn’t kill me was because we were friends. Right?!”

Yuri put his hand to his forehead and looked anywhere but at Bernadetta. “Well…”

“You were my first friend. My very first friend. The first person who played with me. The first person who went on adventures with me. The first—”

Yuri chuckled, “And you were the first friend I had to baby that much.” Though, the look on his face was outwardly fond as he stared at her.

Bernadetta recoiled in shock and indignation. “What do you mean?!” She shook it off before childishly insisting, “Well… even so… You were the first friend who cared for me!”

Yuri flustered and looked down at his feet as he dismissively said, “The whole thing was probably a sham, anyway,” obviously trying to play the vulnerability off. His tone softened as he added, “Though you know… Even if it was… I did have a lot of fun with you.”

Bernadetta blushed before putting a hand over her mouth and dissolving into a fit of giggles that shocked both him and Yuri. “Heh! I knew it!” She dashed forward and grabbed Yuri about the waist in an embrace with the biggest smile on her face. Yuri froze up, staring down at the top of her head like he had no idea what a hug even was. Eventually though, his features melted into something downright tender as he lifted his arms to embrace her, looking for all the world like Bernadetta was something precious.

Obviously, he felt _extremely_ awkward now.

Yuri quickly pulled back and cleared his throat before announcing, “I should go. We’ll catch up more some other time.” He turned to walk away, but Bernadetta caught his hand and dragged him back toward the scrap of fabric, abandoned on its ledge. 

“Don’t forget this,” she innocently insisted, a flush across her cheeks. Yuri took it with a hand that was definitely trembling and looked back up at Bernadetta like he expected her to laugh and steal it back. When all she did was give a small but encouraging smile, he tucked it into his pocket and swiftly walked away without a word.

After watching the door shut behind Yuri, Bernadetta turned toward him, still smiling brightly. He pointed out, “You look happy. Feeling better now?”

Bernadetta dashed forward and gave him the same treatment she’d given Yuri. He released a quiet huff of laughter as he moved to pat her back, feeling relieved that the awkward ordeal was over now. She whispered, “Thank you for making me come.”

He groused, “I didn’t _make you_ do anything.”

Bernadetta pulled back with a nervous giggle. “You know… I never had any siblings or anything. I always used to wish I had one, because growing up I used to get kinda lonely…” She looked down at the ground as a flush colored her cheeks. “But… if I had a brother… I bet he would have been like you.”

She looked up quickly, her eyes blown wide in terror, before blurting out, “Okay, bye!” and fleeing out the door with a panicked shriek.

After several moments of blankly staring after her, he walked out of the greenhouse in something of a daze, only to run into Sylvain just outside. The redhead slowly approached with a chuckled, “Is everything okay? Bernadetta just ran by screaming you were going to kill her.” He didn’t respond, instead he just stared blankly at Sylvain. Sylvain chuckled nervously and asked, “You aren’t going to kill her… right?”

“No.” The word came out sounding small as he looked away. Without giving any indication of what he was doing, he turned and walked toward the stairs to his room, still in something of a daze.

_“But… if I had a brother… I bet he would have been like you.”_

It wasn’t until he reached his room that he realized that Sylvain has been following him, watching him in quiet concern. It was only the afternoon, but he was suddenly tired from a morning full of rigorous training and trying to help Yuri and Bernadetta just now. 

His body felt heavy for some reason. 

He sat down on his bed and stared down at the floor between his feet. “Fe…” Sylvain shut and locked the door before coming to sit beside him, the mattress shifting beneath his weight as he did so. “Fe… are you okay?”

“Yeah.” He nodded and began pulling at the buckles on his boots to take them off. Sylvain watched him, completely silent, as he slowly pulled off his boots and stripped off his coat, before moving to take off the dagger holster on his forearm. 

Sylvain carefully moved his hand to grasp above the holster. “What’s this?” He flexed his fingers as Yuri had taught him, and the blade released into his palm. Sylvain instinctually pulled back with a quiet gasp. 

“Yuri was helping me this morning. He gave it to me.”

Sylvain’s eyebrows furrowed. “Helping you what?”

“Train against people who can Warp. He also showed me a few tips for throwing knives.” He reholstered the blade before slipping everything into his boot and pushing it toward the head of the bed. 

Sylvain quietly asked, “For Byleth?” 

A pang of _something_ —he was reluctant to call it loneliness, but that was likely what it was—twisted in his chest before he turned to look at Sylvain. “Lay down with me for a while?” Sylvain looked surprised by the request, but the surprised expression melted into something soft and adoring after a moment.

“Sure, Fe.” He pulled his hair out of its ponytail as he moved to lay down with his back against the wall, and watched as Sylvain took off his armor and set it toward the foot of the bed before crawling up to lay down beside him. He tucked himself beneath Sylvain’s chin and felt a little better as Sylvain released a pleased sigh and held him there.

After a few minutes of warm, comfortable silence, he whispered, “Yuri is actually Jasper—the boy Bernadetta thought her father killed for being friends with her.”

Sylvain pulled back a little to look at him in befuddlement. “Seriously?”

He gave a small nod. “He asked me to help him talk to her.”

“How did it go?” Sylvain prodded, watching him carefully as he did so.

“Fine. They are going to be friends again, and Bernadetta… she seems really happy about it.”

“Well, that’s good.” Sylvain smiled a sunshine smile, and it was cheesy but he could have sworn he felt the warmth of it across his skin.

“Yeah. Afterwards, Bernadetta…” he reached out to grasp at Sylvain’s shirt, fisting his hand in the material as he pondered his next words, “… she said… if she had a brother, he would be like me.”

Sylvain reached out and stroked the hair away from his face, all while watching him with those kind honey eyes. He found he couldn’t meet them, instead settling his gaze on Sylvain’s collarbone, revealed through the perpetually unbuttoned portion of the redhead’s shirt. At a volume that barely passed as a whisper, he confessed, “I… I miss Glenn.” 

Sylvain nodded and leaned forward to press a kiss to his forehead before tucking him beneath his chin once more. A large hand trailed softly along his side as the other held him close, and in the silence that settled comfortably between them he allowed himself to think about his elder brother—long midnight hair braided down his back, smiling blue eyes the color of the skies on a warm spring day, a comforting arm around his shoulder when he’d had a rough day. A lone tear trailed down his cheek, and he quickly wiped it away before nuzzling closer to Sylvain. 

“Will you… have dinner… with my parents and I? I think I’m going to invite them tonight.”

“That sounds good,” Sylvain crooned, running his fingers through his hair. He nodded against Sylvain’s chest and released a shuddering exhale, lulled into a state of relaxation by his warmth.

~Byleth~

It had been quite some time since she had someone new to spar with. Well, she often sparred with newer recruits, but she didn’t really count them. It had been so long since someone truly gave her a _challenge_. Felix and Catherine were great sparring partners in that they were also skilled with their blade, but she already knew their fighting styles. Hell, fighting Felix was almost like fighting herself. And when it came to brawling, lances, axes, and all of the other areas that she had a minor skill in there was always the thrill of someone teaching her more than what she already knows, but this was different.

Nardel rushed her with his axe, the sheer strength behind his blow enough to where she knew this was going to be a difficult bout. She watched every move he made, noticing the way the styles he used—likely Almyran—differed from what Caspar or any other axe-wielding soldier under her command would do. He had at least a foot on her when it came to their height, and his build was much larger than hers besides. It was likely that if she didn’t have Sothis’ strength behind her, she would have had to fight dirty in order to win.

She was sorely tempted to do so anyways.

He went in for an overhead strike but she ducked out of the way, weaving to his left as she elbowed him in the ribs. It garnered a laugh from the retainer, but he was quick to sweep her away. “Kiddo tells me you were a mercenary,” he said conversationally, using the handle of his axe to block her next swing.

“All my life,” she answered calmly, still focusing on their spar. “My father raised me on the road.”

“Jeralt the Blade Breaker, right?” She nodded before trying strike his wrist, but he saw her coming and jumped out of the way. She wouldn’t say he was elegant when fighting on the ground—likely because he was used to fighting on the back of a wyvern—not that that fact made him any less of a challenge. He had decades of experience on her, and this was only their first bout. She had a feeling both of them were only testing the waters, trying to learn one another’s styles of movement.

“Funny, I met him once.” She froze long enough to where he nearly landed a blow to her shoulder, only missing the opportunity because she managed to flip backward to get out of the way in time. He noticed her reaction and continued on by saying, “He was in Almyra, picking up a few jobs. Had a young girl with him when we met—dark blue hair, piercing blue eyes… Don’t suppose that was you?”

“Wait, what?!” Claude squawked from where he was eagerly watching them a few feet away. He had launched himself to his feet and was staring at Nardel as if he’d grown a second head.

The retainer mused aloud, “You were a quiet thing. It’s no wonder you’re such a warrior, though. Jeralt kicked my ass when we first met. Interesting guy. Could drink with the best of them.”

Claude indignantly called out, “When was this?! Why didn’t I know about this?!”

“You were probably… seven? Eight? Still real young, kiddo. You probably just don’t remember it.”

She caught a glimpse of Claude’s eyes, wide as saucers, before rolling out of the way of Nardel’s next swing. “You mean we met?!” 

The older man shrugged. “Briefly. Long enough for your maman to interrogate him and send him on his way.”

“Maman?! She… Wait, did she know him?!” 

“Only by reputation. When rumors that Jeralt the Blade Breaker was in Almyra reached her ears, she made me go and fetch him.”

She prodded, “Did he say what he was doing in Almyra?”

Nardel shrugged before swinging at her once more. “Said he needed to get out of Fodlan for a while, but wouldn’t give any other answers.”

Claude put a hand to his chin, looking thoughtful. “I wonder if Rhea was on his tail, or something.” He chuckled slowly, but it quickly became a full-blown laugh as he watched her and Nardel continue to go at one another. “You know what this means, Teach?! It means I met you first! Felix and Sylvain are gonna be _pissed_!” She slashed at the back of Nardel’s knee and then kicked him into the dirt with as much force as she could muster before clamoring onto his back and pinning him, a flare of frustration likely making her a bit too aggressive for a spar with a man she barely knew. 

If he minded, it didn’t show. The older man yielded with a hearty laugh. “Ruthless. I love it!” They clasped forearms and she helped him get to his feet. “If I remember correctly, you were real curious about her, but she had no idea what to do with you. She just stared at you as you rambled on and on, never making a sound.”

“I don’t remember any of this…” She turned away as she tilted her head to her fist, trying to mentally search through the murkiness of her past, to no avail. The earlier frustration burned hot in her chest. Why couldn’t she remember? Was it because of Sothis? Her influence? Why could she remember Sylvain and Felix, but not Claude? Was it… because Sothis stirred? Because it was closer to when she woke up? What would have happened if the slumbering goddess in her head hadn’t stirred? Would she have _any_ clear memories before the monastery?

“Hey,” Claude walked around her and lightly held her shoulders as he soothed, “I don’t either. We were young. It happens!”

She clenched her fists at her sides, trying not to let it get to her, but failing. “You don’t understand. You have childhood memories… all I have are bits and pieces. I remember the first time I killed someone, I remember saving Sylvain and meeting Felix, and then a few things just before I arrived at the monastery, but for the most part it’s all… blurry. I didn’t even know I’d ever been to Almyra.”

If the majority of her memories were from after Sothis woke up, was she even really a person? Was there anything that truly made her Byleth—or was she just some being, molded by the goddess that dwelt in her head without either her or Sothis even knowing? Her love of flying, was that her, or Sothis? Her love of teaching? Her love for music? Was anything about her even her? Or was she just like her mother? An empty construct.

She shook the thought away. Sitri wasn’t empty. She loved Jeralt. It was cruel to think of her as nothing but a shell.

“Teach…” She realized Claude was staring intently at her in obvious concern.

She quietly said, “I wish I remembered meeting you.”

“Me too… But hey, we still have Remire, right?” That dazzling smile of his bloomed across his face and she pushed away the frustration, locking it away to deal with some other time. He winked as he crooned, “You’re probably the only reason I’m here right now.”

A flash of an image. Claude pinned beneath Omar. His quietly croaked, _“My friend… is this how it ends?”_ She brushed her bangs out of her face with a small sigh. Claude was here, everyone was alright. She would make sure that it stayed that way.

She walked toward the bench where Claude had previously been sitting as she hummed, “You’ve come far these last five years. You’ve kept the Alliance intact, and you’ve grown into role as a Duke quite nicely. That was all you, Claude.” She took a gulp of water from one of the waterskins before adding, “I’m proud of all you’ve done so far.”

His eyes twinkled as he insisted, “You haven’t seen anything yet, Teach! My own ambitions have been pushed aside by this war, but once we’ve ended it…” His gaze turned wistful as he looked off into the distance.

She stepped closer and picked up the sash around his waist, playing with one of the brightly colored balls of cotton that dangled from the ends of it. He was dressed far more formally today as they were expecting the arrival of the Goneril party—arrayed in a gold cloak with various sashes and a stark white cravat. He looked every bit the Lord she expected him to turn into. She hummed, “You and your mysterious ambitions…”

Her words seemed to snap him back to the present. He turned to wink at her as he teased, “The mystery is part of what makes me so alluring, isn’t it?”

Nardel laughed before calling out, “You keep telling yourself that, Kiddo.” 

Claude groaned in protest before scolding, “You have _got_ to stop calling me that.” It seemed the older man didn’t take his protests very seriously, because all he did was chuckle and reach over to muss Claude’s hair. Claude rolled his eyes and straightened it as he grumbled something under his breath in what she suspected wasn’t in Fodlani.

He pointed between her and Nardel as he sternly said, “You two try not to kill each other. I have to get back to work.”

She asked, “Anything I can help with?”

“Nope. You spar to your heart’s content. However, I’d advise saving enough energy to spar with Holst later. You’ll need it.”

“I took down Nardel, here?” She pointed her thumb at the man in question.

“Nardel’s an old man now, Teach!” His mischievous green eyes lit up at the noise of offense that came from his retainer. “Don’t think you’ll have as easy a go against the strongest general the Alliance has to offer.” Claude winked at a disgruntled Nardel before casually striding away, whistling a ditty.

“Kid’s just asking for it,” Nardel grumbled, hefting his axe up as he dropped into a defensive stance.

She shrugged. “When isn’t he?”

He smirked as she charged forward. “Right you are.” 

Much to her displeasure, a spar with Holst was not the first thing that happened when the Goneril party arrived at Riegan mansion, accompanied by service hands and wyvern knights surrounding an elegant carriage. As soon as the carriage door opened, Hilda merrily skipped toward her with a squeal of excitement before grabbing her hand and pulling her back toward the carriage. “Professor, I want you to meet my big brother, Holst! Holst, this is the Professor!” 

Holst Goneril wasn’t tall in stature—likely no more than half a foot taller than her—though he was made of the sort of brawn that told her he was likely stronger than he looked. He had wavy pink hair, similar in shade to Hilda’s, that stopped at his broad shoulders. The top section of hair was pulled back in a tie, likely to keep it out of his face. He was a handsome man, with a scar through his right brow that she felt made him look rugged—even with the fact that everything about him screamed ‘ _pink_ ’.

“Hello, Holst! I’ve heard great things,” she greeted, with a clasping of his forearm. He looked delighted at her informal greeting, and she wondered if she should practice how she was supposed to greet the others before the Roundtable Conference.

“As have I! I confess, I was not certain it could be so, but you are just as lovely as Hilda made you out to be.”

She huffed a quiet laugh. “I’m not sure that garners a confession, but I’ll allow it all the same.” 

“I’d like to thank you for your efforts in teaching my sister. I have never had the honor of sparring with you, but I feel I already know how immensely skilled you are, solely from seeing the strides she has made and fighting with Caspar.”

“The fact that we have not sparred yet should be remedied as soon as possible. Balthus has told me great things about your skills, and I am quite excited to see what you are capable of.”

“Balthus!” Holst smiled, releasing something of a wistful sigh. “Hilda informed me of what you are doing for him, and I am utterly grateful. I know he would never come to me, as he would never accept a handout, so this arrangement of yours will surely help him. Well…” he rubbed the back of his neck, “…hopefully. He’s not known for his proficiency with money.”

Smirking, Claude interjected, “Now, are you done lavishing her in compliments, Holst? Or shall I leave you both to it?”

Holst laughed and clasped a hand on Claude’s shoulder good-naturedly. “Forgive me. It’s not every day one meets the fabled “Teach”, Duke Riegan.”

She raised a skeptical eyebrow. “Fabled? Don’t tell me you’ve given the others high expectations for me, Claude.”

“Oh, he has,” Hilda giggled into her fist. “He never stopped singing your praises, and he was absolutely convinced you were out there, somewhere.” Then, in a terrible impression of Claude, and with one hand raised like an orator on the stage, she declared, “‘She cut a hole through the sky, Hilda! She’s still alive somewhere. She’s going to come back to us!’” 

Something in her chest twisted as she turned to squeeze Claude’s hand. “Thank you for believing in me.”

He winked and squeezed back. “Always, Teach.”

Hilda looped an arm through hers and cheerily announced, “Now, you are coming with me.”

“Where?”

“I brought gowns for you to try on for the Conference tomorrow. If you want them to vote in your favor, you’ll need to look the part of Archbishop.”

“Acting Archbishop,” she corrected with a small frown, “and can’t I just wear my armor?” 

Claude interjected, “Hilda’s right, Teach. I know you’re having a hard time adjusting to the role, but we need to play to Count Gloucester and Margrave Edmund’s tastes. They will be your biggest obstacle to obtaining troops, and they’ll be expecting—”

“Rhea,” she brusquely interrupted.

“A religious official who can speak on Lady Rhea’s behalf,” Claude somewhat bashfully corrected. “Whatever it takes to secure the troops and supplies you need, right?”

She reluctantly sighed, “Right.” She supposed they didn’t really have the time to be picky about the methods they used. It felt duplicitous, but that was her life now, wasn’t it? The one blessed by the goddess even though she wasn’t even a follower of the Church of Seiros. The masterful tactician, only made so by the fact that she could turn back time. A human, but actually something very different. Everything about her was an act, now.

Claude tried to console her by saying, “Once Hilda’s done her part, the three of us will get together and rehearse what you should say before the others. After we’ve discussed business, you two can spar before dinner. Sound good?”

“Fine.” She nodded curtly in farewell to both Claude and Holst before allowing Hilda to drag her up the stairs, following the flurry of servants from House Riegan and House Goneril who were carrying in garment bags and trunks.

The scene in Hilda’s guest chambers were remarkably similar to the day before the ball. Various gowns hung about the room, but rather than the bodies bustling around being those of her former students, they were a handful of lady’s maids that had traveled with Hilda. Hilda was lounging on the couch with freshly brewed tea as she stood behind a screen, trying on various outfits until Hilda finally found one that she was satisfied with.

The gown was a lovely cream color with golden cord braided through the sleeves that gave them more of a poofed appearance before draping nicely where it stopped around the middle of her forearms. She also admired the fact that it left her shoulders bare. The bodice of the dress was made of a corset of some sort, with more stitching in gold, a deep forest green, and a navy blue that formed beautiful whirls about her torso. As she looked in the mirror, she had to admit that it didn’t look nearly as formal and stuffy as the garments that Seteth acquired for her, but she still looked less… her. Regardless of her opinion, she hoped it would be enough to satisfy the other lords at the Conference, otherwise she had left her army behind for no good reason.

“Perfect! You should hold onto that one. I never used it, anyway. Now, let’s do something about your hair…” Hilda thoughtfully hummed as she changed back into the blouse and trousers she had been in when she arrived.

She stepped out from behind the screen and tensely asked, “My hair?”

Hilda clasped her hands together as she turned toward a younger woman, maybe in her late-twenties or so, and gushed, “Mildred is _excellent_ with the clippers, aren’t you Mildred? She’ll be able to fix it up _perfectly_!” 

“You want to cut it?” She stepped back nervously holding one of the clumps of hair that dangled past her chest.

Hilda fluttered her eyelashes as she rambled, “I _love_ the length, it’s so pretty on you! I just mean the uneven layers and all that business. Seriously, did you cut it with your dagger or something? Anyway, Mildred will be able to even it out and make it look even better.” Hilda stopped as she noticed how tense she had become.

Her eyebrows pinched slightly as she softly asked, “What’s wrong, Professor?”

“It’s… it’s going to sound silly…” she mumbled, turning away.

Hilda pouted slightly and walked over to rub her arm consolingly. “Don’t worry about that, you can talk to me.”

“It’s… the only person who has ever cut my hair was my father. I’m… nervous.” She laughed wetly, tears forming at the corner of her eyes, and shook her head. “It sounds even more ridiculous when I say it out loud.”

Hilda pulled her into a hug. “That doesn’t sound silly at all, Professor. I’m so sorry. If I had known it was going to upset you, I wouldn’t have offered… or made the silly comment about cutting it with a dagger.”

She hugged Hilda back as she weakly chuckled, “Well… you weren’t exactly wrong.”

“Oh… Oh goddess…” Hilda tensed, and when they pulled back, the pinkette looked as if she was trying valiantly not to cringe. “He was cutting your hair… with a dagger? Professor, please let me teach you things. I’m begging you!” Hilda clasped her hand and pouted her lips.

“That won’t be necessary…” she softly answered, smiling at her former student. Normally she would agree solely to please Hilda, but to agree would likely lead to hours spent discussing things that she would likely never use, and she had other things that took priority at the moment. 

She then turned to Mildred and said, “If you wouldn’t mind, though, perhaps a haircut is in order.” It’s not like something as silly as getting a haircut was going to erase her father’s memory or anything. At least, that’s what she told herself over and over as Hilda ushered her toward the seat in front of a simple vanity mirror.

“Just enough to fix the uneven layers,” Hilda interjected as she pulled up a few strands of hair, examining them as carefully as she would inspect a sword at the blacksmith. “Oh, and the crooked bangs.”

Mildred curtseyed and answered, “As you wish, my Lady.”

“All done?” Claude greeted her from behind the desk in his study, as Holst casually sat on the lounger a few feet away sipping liquor from a fine glass.

“I see my lovely sister has had her way with you,” Holst commented, a wry smile on his face. “Amusing to know that her charms extend to even one as powerful as yourself.”

“Once I agreed to a haircut, it rapidly turned into Hilda practicing makeup while Mildred worked, and now I find myself here.” All done up for a meeting with Claude and Holst, and hopefully the spar she'd been promised. Holst stood, gesturing toward a chair, and walked over to a table that bore various bottles of alcohol, and looked them over briefly before pouring her a glass. She took it with a nod and took a sip, appreciating the smoky taste on her tongue. She idly thought that her father would be jealous of the fine liquor she’d been partaking of recently. 

“She has a way of doing that, Teach. I can’t say I don’t appreciate her efforts, though.” Claude winked, grabbing a piece of parchment and walking toward her. “Holst and I went over a few things, and I thought I’d run them by you. If the three of us are prepped, it will be easier to convince the others that it’s in their best interest to lend resources. A difficult feat, but not impossible.”

She nodded, biting back a sigh. “As long as you understand that this isn’t my expertise. I’m used to a more… direct approach.”

Claude clasped his hands on her shoulders, standing just behind her chair. “You should be more confident in yourself. Use your position to the fullest.” 

She turned her head to look up at him as she sighed, “Claude…”

“What, Teach?” He met her gaze, and all she could think about was how calculating those beautiful green eyes were. “You’ve been handed one of the seats that holds the most power in Fodlan—a Fodlan that is currently wracked with war. Not only that, you’ve been blessed by the goddess, herself. You wield the Sword of the Creator, and you’re a magnificent tactician. You’ve got a warrior’s mind, and a saint’s heart. You don’t care about where people are from, what language they speak or what their culture is. You accept everyone, because that’s who you are. If you ask me, you should be the permanent archbishop, not Lady Rhea.”

She turned in her seat to argue, “I have no interest in being archbishop, Claude. I’m a mercenary.”

He shook his head, walking around her chair to stand in front of her. “You haven’t been a mercenary for quite some time, Teach. Whether you like it or not, you wield influence. You likely will for the rest of your life. With that, and the Sword of the Creator? Just imagine what you could do with the power you wield.” He sighed wistfully as he fisted a hand through his hair, and she watched as one stray strand escaped to rest on his forehead. He laughed, plastering a false smile back on his face as he said, “But I’m getting ahead of myself. Let’s start with our strategy for tomorrow’s meeting.” 

As Claude and Holst walked her through the points they wished to discuss in the conference tomorrow, all she could think about was Claude’s words. What was her plan for when the fighting was over? Seiros could not be trusted with the position of archbishop anymore, of that she was certain. She had spent centuries manipulating the continent to her will, and she had become far too comfortable wielding far too much control over the people of Fodlan. 

Who else was going to do it? Cichol? No, he was planning on going into hiding after they found Seiros. Someone else that would be qualified for such a role? Who would that be? Surely, not her. Besides, she had no desire to do it. She never desired power or influence—she was only doing the best she could with what had been forced onto her.

A future, one after the fighting was over and the war had been won, seemed like such a difficult concept, while also being a frightening inevitability. She supposed that, for now, it was best to keep her mind focused on the present. None of these decisions could be made until after the war had been won, anyway. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Byleth: Has an identity crisis.
> 
> Byleth a few hours later: Gets a haircut.
> 
> Cliche, I know. Also me rubbing my hands together with obvious glee as I slip in another soft Felix moment because I LIVE for soft Felix.
> 
> Claude has plans and ambitions for Byleth that she doesn't even have for herself. I think that's an important aspect of the Verdant Wind route, and there are elements of that in their relationship in this fic. I want to make it very clear that I LOVE Claude, but there are definitely aspects of the Claude/Byleth relationship that are highly suspect. Then again, there are aspects of all of the Lord relationships that are highly suspect. *shrugs* That's just fiction for you, I guess.
> 
> Have a great week. Stay safe, stay sane, and hit me up in the comments because I love hearing what you think!


	32. Worry Is A Bully, That Just Won't Let Me Be

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Chapter title pulled from "Going Gets Tough" by the Growlers
> 
> Byleth brings her request for troops and supplies to the Roundtable Conference with Claude's assistance. Sylvain has some much needed quality time with a dear friend.

~Byleth~

The morning of the Conference, her stomach had woven itself into complicated knots as she paced around the guest quarters Claude had provided her. She was already dressed—her hair and makeup done up in a way that was far too fancy for her usual tastes by one of Hilda’s lady’s maids early this morning—but she was still here waiting. Catherine leaned against the wall across the room, her arms crossed lazily in front of her chest as the holy knight watched, seemingly bemused by her anxiety.

Claude asked her to allow him the time to get the other lords quote, “warmed up”. He thought bringing her in after the other lords had been sufficiently warned of what was coming would garner a better reaction than having her in the room when they arrived. He’d planned it all out on his own, and she found she disliked the feeling of not having any control. She supposed having power over time and leading her own forces for the last few months had forced her to grow accustomed to always being elbow-deep in everything that was happening around her. She hated not knowing what they were saying, or what exactly she was walking into.

A knock on the door startled her out of her thoughts and she hustled over to the door to find one of Claude’s servants. “Duke Riegan has asked that I bring you to the Conference Room.” She nodded, and she and Catherine followed the stout man through the winding hallways of Riegan Mansion, as she actively forced her hands to remain still at her sides, despite the urge she felt to wring them in front of her.

This was it. This was the turning point in the war… if she could pull this off.

All eyes were on her as she walked into the room, and she quickly surveyed the people in the room. It was reassuring to see a few familiar faces, as her former students were sitting with their respective family members. A large pentagon-shaped table sat in the room, with a side for each of the five Great Lords that held seats at the Roundtable.

Directly to her right, Lorenz was sitting beside a wiry man with hair that likely used to be his shade but was now a purple-toned silver. Count Gloucester’s hair was cropped short, in a style that was hauntingly similar to the way Lorenz wore his in the Academy. His expression was pinched and he emanated barely restrained displeasure at her arrival. Already she knew this was going to be an uphill battle. 

Sitting beside the Gloucester men was Margrave Edmund, Marianne’s adoptive father. He was a stout old man with thinning white hair and piercing brown eyes that sat beneath bushy white eyebrows. Claude had warned her that the Margrave was not to be underestimated, due to the fact that he was a gifted orator, and he had the ears of several of the lesser lords in the Alliance by virtue of his trade policies and his territory’s positioning. Sitting beside him was Marianne, looking gracefully beautiful and far more at ease than she had ever seen the bluenette in the Academy. When they met eyes, a small smile curved Marianne’s lips as she clasped her hands in front of her, as if in prayer.

Next at the table was Count Ordelia, Lysithea’s father. He had shoulder-length dark hair, so dark brown in hue it was nearly black, tied back with a simple white ribbon. The word that came to mind upon glancing him over was _weary_. His features were drawn, and he looked fatigued—whether that was by the conversation or by life itself she couldn’t be sure. Lysithea nodded her head in greeting as her eyes landed on her, and she was briefly taken aback by how much older the young mage looked.

Last at the table—seated directly to Claude’s left—were Holst and Hilda, the latter of which cast her a wink and a silent “you look stunning”.

Claude came to stand beside her, holding out a hand to gesture toward her. “For those of you that haven’t had the pleasure, allow me to introduce Lady Byleth Eisner. Daughter of the former Captain of the Knights of Seiros, Jeralt Eisner. A renowned mercenary in her own right, known by the moniker the Ashen Demon. Former professor at the Officer’s Academy at Garreg Mach. The wielder of the Sword of the Creator, blessed by the goddess herself, and now acting Archbishop of the Church of Seiros, currently speaking on Lady Rhea’s behalf until the day comes that Lady Rhea is found. Accompanying her is Sir Catherine, wielder of Thunderbrand.”

She set her face in its usual neutral mask as she bowed her head to each Lord before standing straight once more. “It is a pleasure to meet all of you, though I must say that I regret the circumstances.”

“What circumstances would those be?” Margrave Edmund prodded, his voice deep and resounding. She imagined the timbre of his voice would be soothing if it weren’t for her current situation. “The unfortunate circumstance that is war? The circumstances where you and your forces marched through our borders to take the Great Bridge of Myrddin without proper clearances? The circumstances of coming to us in supplication for soldiers to sacrifice to your cause and supplies to support your own people after already marching an army through our territory?” 

“I cannot deny that all you say is true, Margrave Edmund,” she replied in a manner that was as placating as she could manage. Claude warned her that these conferences were a complex tightrope walk of stroking the other Great Lords egos and standing your own ground. The latter she was familiar with, the former, not so much. “However, you will find that it is not my cause alone that brings me here. It is for the sake of Fodlan as a whole that we must finally put an end to this war.”

“I’m sure even one such as yourself must realize the position you’ve placed us in, Lady Eisner,” Count Gloucester droned, his eyes narrowed as he sat primly in his chair. “Her Majesty will see your taking of the Great Bridge of Myrddin as a provocation. You have placed every last citizen of the Alliance in her crosshairs.”

“Respectfully, Count Gloucester, I taught Edelgard at the Officer’s Academy. I know her to be driven and ruthless in the pursuit of her goals. If you truly do not believe that the Alliance was already in her crosshairs, you are sorely mistaken.”

Margrave Edmund raised a challenging eyebrow. “We have had no issue with Emperor Edelgard infringing upon our borders in the five years since she first declared war against the Church of Seiros, Lady Eisner. In fact, she has made no move to attack along our borders at all. Only you have done such a thing.” 

She coolly answered, “With all due respect Margrave, your fragile sense of peace has been bought with the blood and persecution of the citizens of the Holy Kingdom of Faerghus. Just because Edelgard has not felt the need to fight a two-front war as of yet, does not mean that she has no plans to come and conquer once she has fully subjugated Faerghus.”

Count Gloucester made a noise that could only be qualified as displeasure, but before he could say anything she continued, “By no means am I saying your actions over the last five years have been unjustified. Each of you have been doing what you thought best for the people in your respective territories and your own houses. I don’t envy the decisions that you have been forced to make over the last five years for the sake of your country, but the time of neutrality has long since ended. Edelgard must be stopped, or the whole of Fodlan will burn for the sake of her ideals.”

Count Ordelia tiredly said, “And what ideals would you have us sacrifice our citizens for, Lady Eisner? I consider myself a goddess fearing man, but to throw our men and women into this war for another country—as saddening as the unrest in Faerghus may be—is a tall order.”

“One only need look to the status of Hyrm territory to know what Emperor Edelgard is capable of, Count Ordelia.” His features pinched with an emotion she couldn’t quite decipher as she continued, “War conscription is mandatory at punishment of immediate execution if you refuse. They are taxed to the point that they cannot even flee their own territory. Not only that, we know that she is willing to turn her own soldiers into Demonic Beasts to serve her own ends, and her allies are willing to perform obscene experimentation on citizens of the Empire. Such a ruler cannot be trusted to continue her regime.”

“Experimentation?” Lysithea startled each of the Lords, except notably Count Ordelia, by jumping into the conversation.

She nodded, trying to withhold a grimace. “When we took the Great Bridge, my men searched it thoroughly. In the prisons we found the corpses of the Empire’s own citizens, twisted and disfigured. It seems they were trying to find a way to create Demonic Beasts without the use of a fragment of a Crest Stone. This enemy consists of the same masked dark mages that were there during the ransacking of the Holy Mausoleum and the Tragedy of Remire five years ago.”

“Masked mages?” Lysithea’s voice was thin as she dropped her hands to her lap. Her features remained neutral, but her eyes had a sort of fire that told Byleth there was something she was missing.

She nodded. “They are part of the same group that sent the man who disguised himself as Tomas, the librarian at Garreg Mach, and Monica, the student who killed my father. They work for Edelgard, and have been since she was masquerading as the Flame Emperor. They will stop at nothing to see Edelgard succeed, but their evil ways cannot stand. The way I see it, we can either stand and fight together, putting a stop to their evil designs; or you can roll over and show Edelgard your bellies, hoping she’ll spare you even though she has made it abundantly clear that she plans to dismantle the Crest System and the concept of nobility as a whole.”

Count Ordelia stood abruptly and announced, “House Ordelia is willing to lend whatever it can to your cause, the specifics of which I will discuss with Duke Riegan at a later time. For now, if you’ll excuse me, I require a brief respite.” He strode out of the room, and Lysithea grimaced and nodded as she followed her obviously rattled father out the door. 

Palpable tension settled over the room as Count Gloucester and Margrave Edmund looked toward the exit with matching looks of utter befuddlement. Claude looked equally confused for a moment, but the emotion was quickly concealed behind his usual mask. He had told her that Count Ordelia normally didn’t speak out on any of the issues brought forward, tending toward listening rather than making himself heard. The fact that he would be the first to vote in favor of herself and the rebellion forces was not something anyone in the room had been expecting.

Holst slapped his hand on the table, the sudden sound making everyone jolt and her instinctively move her hand to the hilt of the Sword of the Creator on her hip. He boldly announced, “House Goneril is also willing to lend supplies to your cause. Though we do not have much in the way of forces due to the persistent need to defend the Throat, Hilda and her battalion of Goneril fliers are willing to fight alongside you, with the use of our family’s Relic, Freikugal.” 

As a tactician, the use of another Relic was not to be discounted, even if the thought left a bitter taste in her mouth. Freikugal—backed with Hilda’s skill in battle—would almost be of the same value as an additional battalion. It also brought their arsenal of Relics to a rather astounding eight—not including Balthus and Yuri’s Relics, which were not widely known about. 

Claude, in a formal tone, declared, “I believe in Lady Byleth’s leadership and battle capabilities, as such House Riegan is also more than willing to lend supplies and soldiers.” He looked to her as he added, “I, myself, am willing to fight at your side if it means bringing about the end of this war and ushering in peace for all of Fodlan.” 

Marianne leaned over to whisper something in Margrave Edmund’s ear as Count Gloucester’s face slowly flushed with what was likely rage. “I see. Unfortunately, House Gloucester is unwilling to ally themselves with Lady Eisner—”

“With the Church of Seiros, itself, Count Gloucester.” Claude interjected as he knocked his knuckles on the table, looking rather sly. “The leader of which, I must remind you, spared your son and heir even after he fought against her. Where would House Gloucester be if Lady Eisner lacked the grace and mercy to do such a thing?”

Gloucester’s eyes narrowed, burning with outward rage as he leaned forward and hissed, “My son and heir would not have been in danger if my soldiers had not been called out to march on your provocation.” 

Claude tilted his head, his face the very picture of innocence. “You speak of my training exercises? House Riegan has been waiting to march into the fray from the moment rumors of the rallying Knights of Seiros reached my ears. As such, I had to be certain my troops would be ready for Lady Eisner’s call-to-arms. I fail to see how the training of my forces is any concern of yours, Count Gloucester.

A change came over Gloucester as he leaned back in his chair once more, the man immediately looking more like a cat lounging lazily in the sun. “Perhaps House Gloucester would be more willing to form an Alliance with the Church of Seiros if something more,” the Count’s lips curled with a smirk, “permanent, were to be arranged.” Claude’s eyes sharpened as he stared Gloucester down.

“F-Father…” Lorenz spluttered, a furious blush coloring his cheeks. She had to admit that she had an inkling this would come up eventually. She had a rare Crest, and she knew the way noblemen used their offspring as brooding mares and stud horses. The fact that he had the audacity to bring it up in such a setting was intriguing, though the way the Count’s eyes nearly sparkled, paired with his self-congratulatory smirk as he glanced Claude’s way, it’s likely he was only doing it to see if he could get a rise out of Claude. Not that a marriage between her and Lorenz wouldn’t be beneficial to him besides. 

She firmly stated, “If an arrangement of marriage is what you are implying, I am sorry to inform you that such a thing is not possible.” 

Gloucester raised an eyebrow, “You are already betrothed to another, Lady Eisner?”

She shook her head. “I am not, for it is likely I will never marry.” She didn’t see a way in which she ever could, not with the fact that she would not age. What would it mean to marry, only to watch her husband or wife slowly age, inevitably die, and ultimately leave her alone? She wasn’t sure she could bear something like that. Besides, she didn’t see herself forgetting her feelings for Felix and Sylvain any time soon. Marriage simply wasn’t in the cards for her. 

She then quickly added, “Regardless of that fact, such arrangements will not even be discussed until after the war is concluded. If Lorenz would like to seek my hand once peace is obtained,” she cast the young man in question an apologetic look that she could only hope he understood, “he may. As could any other lady or gentleman if they so choose.”

Gloucester was still analyzing her when Margrave Edmund cleared his throat to draw everyone’s attention. Once everyone’s eyes had moved to him, he announced, “House Edmund is willing to provide supplies and troops to the Church of Seiros. And, as an additional show of faith, I am willing to allow my adoptive daughter, Marianne, to travel to Garreg Mach with you immediately.” 

Shock and betrayal registered on Gloucester’s face before bitter resignation settled in. It was obvious the two men had had some sort of unofficial agreement before coming into this meeting, though it was likely that Margrave Edmund was merely shifting with the tides. He wasn’t nearly as inconsistent as Lord Acheron had been, but Claude knew him to follow where gold and opportunity flourished, especially since gaining a seat at the Roundtable. Surely, he knew with the other lords voting in her favor, there would be little use in opposing her. And he would likely find a way to make it so he didn't end up on the losing side of the war either way.

Count Gloucester’s lip curled as he met her gaze. “I require time to consider the issue at hand.”

She dipped her head and tried to sound pleasant as she responded, “I understand, Sir. I appreciate your consideration.” It was likely he was pondering what to do about Edelgard’s “emissaries” back in Gloucester if he voted for or against her here, though Claude had advised against bringing up that specific issue in front of the other Great Lords. 

Claude stood and interjected, “I believe a brief recess is in order. My staff has prepared lunch for us to dine out on the lawn. Perhaps while we partake of the glorious weather, General Goneril would be willing to test Lady Eisner’s skills for us?” Green eyes twinkled with mischief as he looked over to Holst, who chuckled as he nodded.

“There is nothing I would like more.” Holst looked to her and promptly added, “Of course, only if it is amenable to you, Lady Eisner.”

She nodded. “It would be an honor.” She and Holst sparred for a short while the night before, but there wasn’t much time before dinner was served. His skills were exactly that she had been expecting from Balthus’ praises, and she was excited for the opportunity to spar with him again. That and she would like nothing more than to get out of this dress.

Count Gloucester was the first to leave the room as Claude dismissed everyone, and Lorenz was quick to rush over and whisper a frantic, “Allow me to apologize on my father's behalf, Professor. I had no idea he would propose such a thing in a setting as public as this, and I am appalled that he would proposition you in such a blatant manner, especially without consulting myself.”

She huffed a quiet laugh, touched at his apparent worry. “It’s alright, Lorenz. I figured it would come to that eventually, though I assumed I was safe until the war was through.”

Lorenz curled a hand beneath his chin with a nervous chuckle. “Ah, yes. I am certain that with your rare Crest and status within the Church that such a thing is inevitable.” He paused briefly before hesitantly asking, “Did you mean what you said to my father? That you would likely never marry? Or were you merely using the excuse to escape further discussions?”

She raised an eyebrow, confused at his reaction. “I don’t plan to ever marry, no.”

Claude wrapped a hand around the inside of her elbow before leaning over to whisper, “I should go find Lysithea.”

She whispered back, “I’ll come with you.” She then turned to Lorenz and said, “If you’ll excuse me.” 

Lorenz bowed slightly before saying, “Of course, Professor. I look forward to watching your match against General Holst.”

As she and Claude walked toward the Ordelias' guest quarters she quietly asked, “Do you know why they reacted that way during the Conference?”

He rubbed at the back of his neck as he said, “I’m sorry to say I’m about as clueless as you are on this one, Teach. I’m hoping Lysithea will fill us in. I’m glad Count Ordelia was so quick to agree, but it all seems rather suspect.” 

They stopped in front of Lysithea’s door—the one right beside her father’s—and knocked. No one came to the door, but a few moments later Count Ordelia’s door opened and Lysithea slipped out, her face pale and her eyes red-rimmed. When Claude opened his mouth to speak, Lysithea hushed him and motioned them into her room.

Once the door had been shut behind them, Lysithea turned to them and tiredly sighed, “I suppose you are here because you wish to know what caused my father to react in such a way?”

“I wanted to come and check on you, and Teach wanted to tag along.” Claude sheepishly rubbed the back of his neck as he admitted, “Though I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t curious.”

Lysithea slowly began, “As you might know, House Ordelia was involved in a rebellion that took place in the Empire thirteen years ago.”

Claude supplied, “When Hrym tried to defect to the Alliance due to Emperor Ionus’ power grab?” Lysithea nodded and he then turned to her to explain, “Before the Insurrection of the Seven, Edelgard’s father attempted to centralize power in the throne. Hyrm attempted to defect to the Alliance in retaliation, but the attempt was shut down by the Imperial army. As a result, Hyrm’s family line was completely wiped out after their attempted insurrection.”

Lysithea quietly added, “The Empire sent replacements, and they used those replacements to take control of House Ordelia.”

Claude’s eyebrows furrowed. “What are you talking about?”

Lysithea’s gaze was distant as she explained, “All my house did was respond to the call for aid, but we were sorely punished for our efforts. Among the people the Empire sent to tax and deal out punishment to my house were mages who always wore masks, similar to the ones you described just now, Professor.”

She stiffened, concerned with where this might be going, while Claude just looked even more confused. She asked, “This was thirteen years ago?”

Lysithea nodded as her eyes became overwhelmingly sad. “One by one they captured and imprisoned the children from my house, and performed horrible rituals on them. Blood experiments. With the Empire watching, there was nothing my parents could do but watch in horror as all of this unfolded. None of the other Alliance lords came to our aide.” Her breath left her in a rush as she put a hand to her forehead.

Claude walked forward to try and place a hand on Lysithea’s shoulder, but she shied away. “Lysithea… you can’t mean… even you?”

Lysithea nodded stiffly, obviously trying to keep her composure though it was fraying at the seams. “Yes. All the others… my brothers and sisters… they were deemed failures. They all died. And even I…” She trailed off and bowed her head, not willing to finish the sentence. “It doesn’t matter. The point is that those monsters possess dreadful knowledge and power. My parents and I know this better than most, as such we will do everything in our power to help you get rid of them.”

She quietly asked, “What did they do to you, Lysithea?” The younger woman couldn’t seem to meet her gaze. “I won’t pressure you, if you aren’t ready to say anything…”

Lysithea put out her hands and both her and Claude startled as two Crests flared, one above each hand. Claude’s voice wavered slightly as he pointed to her right hand and said, “That’s the Major Crest of Gloucester.” 

Lysithea nodded and indicated her left hand. “And that’s the Minor Crest of Charon. I bear two Crests.” She shook her head. “It would be more accurate to say that two Crests were forced to coexist inside my body. The mages who did this informed me that it would greatly shorten my lifespan. Five more years at most, perhaps less. They then left our house, having no further use for me.”

Claude grabbed her and pulled her to his chest as she shuddered with a weak sob. He stroked her hair as he whispered, “Lysithea…”

“No!” She weakly pushed back from Claude, wiping at her eyes with her sleeves and giving a valiant effort to pull herself together. “I won’t let you coddle me. I am merely telling you all of this because you should know who the Empire is allied with.”

She gently insisted, “Lysithea, I want you to come back to the monastery with me when I leave.”

Lysithea looked to her in confusion. “What? Why? I already informed my father that I would fight with you?”

“I want to take you to meet with Hanneman and Linhardt—”

“No, no, no…” Lysithea shook her head, waving her hands dismissively. “The last thing I want is to be poked and prodded.”

“If that is truly how you feel, I completely understand. However, I…” She stopped, determining how much she could say. If she spoke with Cichol, perhaps he would be able to find a way to help take the Crests away. Seiros knew how to imbue them, so maybe there was a way to take them away—to undo what had been wrongfully done to her. It wouldn’t take away the trauma it caused, but perhaps she would have a chance at a full life. “I think they could help you find a way to remove them.” Lysithea’s eyes blew wide as Claude’s became calculating. “Hanneman and Linhardt have been experimenting with my Crest, and they’ve learned quite a bit over the last few months. I think if you were to come with me, they could find a way to remove them. If you have them removed…”

Lysithea breathed, “It might give me more time…”

She nodded. “Exactly.”

Lysithea’s fists clenched at her sides as her face set in determination. “The Crests, they give me more power. I should at least use that power to help stop the war. I have to make sure these vile monsters don’t do this to anyone else.”

She couldn’t help the small smile that curved her mouth. “I appreciate the sentiment, and I won’t say no if that’s what you truly wish. I would say that they can at least begin researching now, and then start actually testing the hypothesis after the fighting is over?”

Claude nodded as he insisted, “Teach is right, Lysithea. You should go with her. You should meet with them. If there’s even a chance it could help…”

She insisted, “We’ll find a way.” She would force Seiros to help if she had to.

A small chuckle escaped Lysithea as she shook her head, looking a bit incredulous. “You sound resolved. I’ll allow your resolve to bolster my own! Thank you, Professor. I will speak with my father immediately.”

She turned to head to toward the door, but stopped when Claude called, “Tell him we are having lunch on the lawn if he’d like to come. Teach and Holst are going to spar, as well, if you want to watch.” Lysithea nodded and left.

Claude walked her down the hall to her own guest room in something of a daze. She opened the door and he followed her inside, dropping down onto the bed as she bolted the door. She began the arduous work of undoing her corset as he stared up at the ceiling, his hands planted on his forehead in a state of disbelief. He sighed, “I can’t believe it. How did I not know about this, Teach?”

She quietly responded, “It seems like it’s something Lysithea tries hard to conceal. She’s nothing if not determined, that one.”

“My grandfather… I can’t believe he just… _allowed_ all of this to happen.” He sat up, immediately noticed her struggling, and stood to begin helping with her ties. His dexterous fingers and the fact that he could see the damned things making it so he had a much easier time.

She whispered, “I’m sorry, Claude. I promise I’ll do everything I can to help.” 

The corset portion of the dress became loose and she sucked in the first deep breath she’d been able to manage since putting the evil contraption on, making Claude huff a quiet laugh. He slowly wrapped his arms around her from behind, burying his face in the crook of her neck, nuzzling the skin there softly with the tip of his nose. She shivered when his warm breath ghosted over her skin as he whispered, “I know you will, Teach.”

She leaned her body back against him with a small sigh. They hadn’t spent much time alone since she’d arrived at Riegan mansion, apart from their night flight. There was a sense of relief, being around Claude. In some ways it was easier than being around Sylvain and Felix because there was less… weight. Looking back, every moment she’d been with Felix and Sylvain since reuniting had been strained by her feelings that she’d been too oblivious to recognize for what they were. Everything had shifted since that moment in the training grounds when she caught them together. While she didn't think she was _in love_ with Claude, she did love him dearly, and she didn’t feel that strain in his presence. 

Nevertheless, she wasn’t sure how to handle to way Duke Riegan was making her body feel right now, especially with how muddled her feelings were. 

She sighed, “I should probably get changed so we can join the others.” 

He nuzzled beneath her ear before whispering, “Probably.” Her intake of breath shuddered as his hands wandered, exerting enough pressure to where she could feel the whole of him pressed against her back. She was sure her heart would be racing if it wasn’t made of stone, even without a thudding in her chest, her head was light as she tilted it back to lean against his shoulder.

They stood in tension-filled silence, neither of them pushing forward or stepping back. All the while Claude’s hands still roamed her body, his nimble fingers tracing the swirls in her dress and building on the pressure in her chest. Eventually, he quietly asked, “Did you mean what you said earlier? That you would never marry?”

It was enough to pull her from her daze. She stood up straight, pulling out of his grasp, ending the electrified moment between them. She nodded as she confirmed, “Yes.”

His piercing green eyes were watching her carefully as she walked over to her bag and pulled out training clothes. “Why?”

She swallowed heavily before answering, “Because I can’t.”

“Can’t?” His eyebrows furrowed, looking genuinely perplexed. She imagined it wasn’t the answer he was expecting. “I don’t understand.” She walked behind the screen, but found she was still nervous when he stood directly on the other side.

She carefully pulled the dress over her head before saying, “It’s a long story.”

“Is it? Or is it just one you don’t wish to tell?” Her breathing was coming in faster than she would have liked as she pulled her shirt over her head and moved to grab her pants. 

She gave the lame excuse of, “It’s not that I don’t want to tell…” but she knew that wasn’t true. Telling her friends would make all that Cichol told her seem all the more real, and she wasn’t sure whether she was ready to face it all yet.

Claude prodded, “Is this about Felix and Sylvain?” She abruptly straightened, walking out behind the screen to look at him. She wasn’t sure what her faced looked like, but it must have been adequate for the range of various hard to understand emotions that churned in her stomach. He awkwardly chuckled, pulling at the hairs at the back of his head. “Okay, maybe that’s not it.”

“This doesn’t have anything to do with them. It’s about me.” She finished dressing and walked over to strap the Sword of Moralta to her side, leaving the Sword of the Creator underneath the bed.

“What if you fall in love with someone? What if someone falls in love with you?” She huffed a breath out of her nose, pointedly not looking at Claude as he continued his interrogation. “What do you mean you _can’t_?” 

The last word held more emotion than the others had, enough to make her glance toward him. She wasn’t comfortable with what she found there. Green eyes were wide and imploring as he stood, arms open in supplication. “Claude…”

He teased, “Come on, Teach… You used to share your secrets,” though it was strained as he cleared his throat, obviously trying to cover up for the earlier slip up in showing he _felt_ something. 

She walked forward and tucked a stray strand of hair out of his face, only for it to flop down almost immediately. She switched tracks, instead trailing her fingertips over his jawline as she looked anywhere but into his eyes. “I don’t know that I’m ready to face it yet. That’s why… that’s why sharing it is so hard.”

His hands came to rest on her hips as he implored, “Sharing what? What could have you looking _terrified_ right now? The last time I saw you look like this, there was a flood of Imperial soldiers storming the monastery and you were shouting at me to retreat.” He paused, and when he spoke again his voice wavered. “I’m not going to find out that two of my friends are dying in one day, am I?”

Something of a broken chuckle escaped her, sounding about as heavy as her whole body felt. She shook her head and whispered, “No, I’m not dying.” The bruising grip on her hips told her that Claude wasn’t so sure from her reaction. She got up on her tip toes and pressed a kiss to his cheek, before firmly meeting his gaze and insisting, “I’m not dying, I promise.”

He threw back his head and petulantly whined, “Teach…”

“We have somewhere to be. I’ll…” she paused, heaving a heavy sigh, “I’ll talk to you tonight. Sneak in?” He took an exaggeratedly deep breath before nodding. “Come on. Let’s go before you’re missed.”

Awkwardly enough, Catherine was waiting in the hallway when they walked out, casually leaning against the wall examining her fingernails. If the Holy Knight thought anything about the fact that the Grand Duke of the Alliance and the acting Archbishop of the Church of Seiros had been alone in her guest quarters, she gave no indication, instead grousing, “Alliance nobles are a drag. All they want to talk about is money and politics.” Whether that was supposed to serve as an explanation of her presence there, or a complaint for having been brought to Riegan territory in the first place, she wasn’t sure.

Claude released something of a surprised guffaw and nodded his head. “Their primary concerns are keeping their coin purses fat and getting their policies passed, yes. Let’s get some sparring going, I’m sure that will lift your spirits!”

Catherine lifted a challenging eyebrow as she chuckled, “Are you challenging me, Duke Riegan?”

Claude put a hand to his chest, his face all mock-innocence. “Challenging Thunder Catherine? Me? The archer? Never!”

“Pity,” the Holy Knight sighed. “Shamir would’ve taken me up on it.”

“Missing your partner?” She wiggled an eyebrow and Claude looked like she’d just given him a gift. 

“She’s in enemy territory,” Catherine grumbled, grasping the hilt of her sword in a manner she imagined was supposed to be self-soothing.

She frowned, feeling bad for teasing. Shamir had reported that she would be going into Empire territory for a scouting mission before their group left the Great Bridge. The sniper had gone so far as to say if she didn’t return, to assume she was dead. She hadn’t enjoyed that way of thinking then, and she certainly didn’t enjoy it now. “Shamir’s the best of the best, Catherine. She’ll watch her own back.”

“She better.”

Soon after rejoining the others on the lawn, Holst asked for their spar. She had barely managed a few bites of food, but she found that she was just as eager after the stuffiness and nerves from the earlier meeting. The others—including the rest of the Golden Deer that had come out to join—sat beneath a large shading tent as she and Holst walked out several paces and began to circle one another.

“I’ll have you know that I’m not planning to allow you to best me, purely so you might show your prowess,” Holst jested, his smile sharp as his grip tightened on his training axe, provided by Claude’s staff.

She bantered back, “That will make my victory taste all the sweeter.” Holst’s eyes narrowed with a fiery determination as he charged forward with a powerful strike that she danced out of the way of, keeping an eye on his shoulders as he followed through, using his momentum to spin around and swing once more. She met his blow, the power reverberating through her arms in a way that brought a fierce smirk to her own face.

Hilda cheered, “Go, Holst!” with a cheerful whoop, which made Holst chuckle breathlessly as she pressed her advantage, dropping quickly to sweep his legs out from under him. He jumped away, but lost his footing enough to where she could lunge forward and keep him unbalanced. A sheen of sweat began to form on his brow as he tried to keep up with her, but she kept up her tireless assault.   
In a desperate effort to gain the upper-hand, Holst caught her blade with the crook of his axe, causing their weapons to lock up. He grunted as he kicked forward, landing a blow to her stomach that stole the air from her lungs. She bent down, trying to heave in a breath, and he used her moment of weakness to pull back for an overhead strike. She pulled herself together enough to raise her weapon, but she knew there wasn’t enough power behind it to fully guard. 

Holst brought his axe down on her training blade right as power pulled at her core, and she was surprised when for the second time a shield formed around her—the force of the magical barrier enough to send Holst flying back several feet as his blow met it, landing flat on his back with a pained grunt. 

She panted as she looked around at the barrier, still shimmering around her as the Crest of Flames glowed golden in front of her chest. Hilda worriedly called Holst’s name as she and Marianne ran across the grass to check on the elder Goneril. She was relieved to find that he was already sitting up, rolling his shoulder with a grimace even as his eyes were wide with surprise. 

“Teach?!” When she turned toward the call, Claude was gaping at her from the outside of the barrier, his hand to his forehead as his head shook incredulously.

“How did you summon this? There was no sigil, no casting…” Lysithea reached out to touch the barrier, flinching back as power surged out to meet her hand. 

Her eyes went to the other Great Lords, standing near the table and watching her with great interest. Margrave Edmund leaned over to whisper something to Count Gloucester, who looked more than a little unsettled by the display of power. She stammered, “I… I’m not sure. It’s new. I’ve only done it once before, but that was in battle and under great duress.” It had been in an attempt to save Felix in a life-or-death situation. She hadn’t done anything to investigate the power since then, so the fact that it happened now, during a friendly spar, was slightly unnerving. 

“New power?” Claude teased, trying to remain easy as the barrier continued to hold strong between them. “Any other tricks I should know about?” 

She scoffed, “I’ll let you know when I do.”

Lysithea looked at her and hesitantly asked, “Professor, do you know how to drop it?” She hummed thoughtfully, closing her eyes as she focused on the unfamiliar power at her core. She honed in on it, taking deep controlled breaths, and opened her eyes to watch as it faded away. “That is incredible. How big can you make them? Can you cast them around other people? Could other people use the spell, or is it specific to your Crest?” 

She held up her hands to stop the onslaught of excited questions from the brilliant mage. “I honestly have no idea. The first time I did it was a few weeks ago when Felix and I were ambushed by some of those masked mages. They were attempting to capture me and it was just… instinct. I haven’t had the time to test it further.” Lysithea began mumbling something under her breath, her eyebrow furrowed in thought.

“It seems you’ve bested me,” Holst announced, walking over to clasp her arm. Hilda and Marianne stood beside him, watching her curiously.

“Are you alright? I’m sorry if I hurt you. I didn’t intend to use that.” She frowned slightly, concerned that it could hurt others if she didn’t have it under control.

He shook his head. “There’s no need for worry. That is a handy skill you have there. I’ll admit, I’ve never seen anything like that.”

Lysithea put a hand to her chin as she thoughtfully interjected, “Barrier spells are not uncommon, though the power that pushed you back like that is. Even reaching out toward it caused it to send a surge to my hand.” Her tone turned chiding as she added, “It is really a power that you should test further, Professor. It would have several valuable applications in battle.”

She raised an eyebrow. “Perhaps you could help me test it if you come to the monastery?” She relished the fact that Lysithea looked excited at the prospect. She imagined that she, Linhardt, and Constance would enjoy spending time together. If the three of them put their heads together, they would be a force to be reckoned with.

Holst offered, “Shall we go another round? Perhaps I can gain the upper-hand this time.” She nodded, glad that she hadn’t insulted him or injured his pride enough to dim his usual friendliness as they others walked back up to the tent. 

As they began to circle once more, she focused on keeping that power at bay, nervous about what other powers she could potentially unlock as time moved forward.

After lunch, Claude and the other Great Lords went back to the Conference Room to go over other issues that needed addressing, leaving her with the Golden Deer and Catherine out on the vast beautiful lawns of the mansion. Ignatz sat and sketched her as she and Catherine sparred. Hilda, Marianne, and Lorenz took tea near the flowers, while Leonie and Raphael got more sparring done nearby, never ones to sit idle. Lysithea nibbled on some of the treats left over from the lunch, writing something on a piece of parchment with a furrow in her brow. 

They retired to their guest quarters for an hour of relaxation before readying themselves for dinner. Hilda came in with one of the gowns she hadn’t found suitable for the Conference, but was obviously adequate for dinner. The pinkette then escorted her down, and she sat beside a very tired but pleased-looking Claude.

He leaned over and entwined her pinky with his as he whispered, “We’re almost there, Teach.”

A thrill of excitement went through her. She whispered back, “Did Gloucester agree to provide troops?” 

“Soon. He’s backed into a corner. He doesn’t have much of a choice, now.” Green eyes were sharp, the look of someone who had bested their opponent. 

Something about the look made her think of Felix…

“Speaking of Gloucester…” Claude scanned the table at the same moment she did, and they both noticed the two missing heads. Count Gloucester and Lorenz were both missing. Claude raised two fingers and a man in a serving uniform scuttled over to lower his head to Claude’s whispering lips. She looked over curiously, but Claude just nodded and squeezed her pinky before standing and addressing the others at the table.

“We stand at the precipice of a new era in Fodlan, and while much is still uncertain, I feel nothing but pride to be allied with such fine men and women.” He lifted his glass and toasted, “May our efforts bring a new dawn to all of Fodlan.” Everyone lifted their glasses and drank before quiet conversations and the sounds of cutlery filled the room.

She couldn’t remember the last time she ate something so lavish. The fish that Claude’s chefs had prepared was delicious, and Claude watched her first bites with no small amount of amusement radiating in those beautiful green eyes. 

The servant from before scurried back into the room and knelt down to whisper something in Claude’s eyes that immediately made them turn cold. He stood abruptly, waving away the servant with a nod of thanks. “I’m afraid our feasting will need to be cut short, gentlemen.”

She stood as she asked, “What’s going on, Claude?”

“Count Gloucester has fled Riegan estate.” He glanced to her as he added, “Lorenz went with him.”

“What?” Margrave Edmund stood abruptly, looking at Claude as if he’d grown a second head. “There’s meant to be an entire day of discussions tomorrow.”

“I was hoping I wouldn’t have to bring this to your attention, because I was hoping Count Gloucester would handle it discreetly, but it seems he’s made the wrong decision.” Claude looked over to her, his gaze sharp. “Lady Byleth, please convey to the others what Lorenz told you when you took him prisoner at the Great Bridge.”

She looked to him in confirmation—he had said not to bring up the matter earlier—but Claude nodded and waved for her to speak. “Lorenz informed me that Count Gloucester had reached out to Edelgard in hopes of allying himself with her.” Holst pounded a fist on the table in apparent outrage as Count Ordelia rubbed his temples. “He said that emissaries were sent and have been staying with them in Gloucester.”

Margrave Edmund haughtily sniffed, “It seems our ‘fragile sense of peace’ as you so aptly called it was actually a machination of Count Gloucester. He’s already sold us out to Her Majesty, likely for his own gain, so why would she feel the need to march troops against our borders?” He scoffed, straightening his jacket. He lifted a fluffy white eyebrow and dryly asked, “I’m assuming you already have a plan, Duke Riegan?”

Claude nodded, his expression unreadable. “Let us convene to the Conference Room.” He stopped by her and lightly grasped her elbow as he whispered, “Wait for me. I’ll come as soon as I can.” She straightened his cravat as she nodded. She watched him leave the room as she crossed her arms behind her back, trying to hide her nervousness.

As soon as the door shut, Ignatz nervously asked, “What’s going to happen now?” His brown eyes scanned through all of them before landing on her, as if she held all of the answers. 

Unfortunately, she didn’t.

  
~Sylvain~

The worst thing about his current relationship status—Okay, maybe it would be more apt to say the _only_ bad thing—was the secrecy that he and Felix decided to use with their relationship. It was the fact that the entirety of Fodlan, outside of their core friend group, thought he was the same guy he’d been during their time at the Academy. To make matters worse, even with that reputation he still had plenty of admirers. It never failed to spurn that old ugly feeling in his chest—the one that made him feel that people would only ever see him for his blood and his name. 

Unfortunately, with the influx of soldiers, merchants, and pilgrims returning to the monastery, also came a flood of would-be suitors. It was easy to smile and wave, seem like the cheery philanderer that he used to be, but it was harder when they were persistent. 

Like the Kingdom rebellion soldier that always seemed to be there when he didn’t already have a friend to dine with, or the merchant’s daughter that searches him out _at least_ once a week with a new box of sweets and an invitation to dinner even though he’s already tried to let her down easy, _multiple times._ There’s also the matter of the absolute strangers who aren’t afraid to approach him—even when he is in the company of Felix or another friend—and hang off his arm, giggle obnoxiously, give false compliments, and try to get into his bed. 

He knows he’s not the only one it happens to. Even seemingly unapproachable Felix has admirers, like the armorer’s daughter that always twirls her hair around her finger and nibbles at her lower lip when a certain dark-haired swordsman— _his dark-haired swordsman_ —combs their stall for anything of use. However, Felix has established himself as one who _will_ lash out if you annoy him, and it keeps most of the pesky persistent suitors at bay. 

He’s not so fortunate. They assume he’s easy—he’s a philanderer, so all they need to do is get his attention and do whatever it takes to keep it. However, his attention is firmly elsewhere. He has two passionate, beautiful, deliciously aggravating sword wielders that take up nearly every unproductive moment of thought in his head. Between his pathetic pining and worrying over Byleth—especially with her away from the monastery right now—and his endless desire to make time he can sneak alone with Felix, he has nothing left to give. He doesn’t want to give attention to anyone else.

Thus, the reason that moments like this one are so… _trying_. The woman currently talking his ear off as he stands in the courtyard near the old Academy is one of the annoyingly persistent ones. She’s got his arm in a vice grip as she not so discreetly glares daggers at the women who dare to glance at him, as if he is hers to horde and be possessive of. He’s already tried to leave twice, but she just follows him and butts her way into any conversation he starts with another person.

She’s the worst of them. He can _sense_ it. It wrinkles his nose like a foul stench. The old instinct to lead her on and _take, take, take,_ until he leaves her high and dry is like a viper in his chest, coiling and waiting to strike. He’s trying to be pleasant, but he can tell that his smile has too many teeth and his façade is cracking with each unsubtle brush of her body against his own, each question about his schedule for the rest of the day, and each prodding of where his room is.

All of his malice toward the woman left him completely when he spotted Ingrid slam open the door that led to the cathedral, her lips firmly set in a thin line and her eyes glimmering with what he suspected to be unshed tears. He pulled his arm from the random woman’s grasp and unceremoniously said, “Don’t follow me,” before walking away, ignoring her indignant calls as he went after his friend. 

He had to jog somewhat to catch up to Ingrid, but once he caught up, he could see from the set of her shoulders that something was definitely wrong. He used his usual sing-song tone as he greeted, “Hey, Ingrid,” and watched as she valiantly tried to pull herself together.

And that just wouldn’t do.

He held out his arm and offered, “Come get some food with me? I’m starving, and I hear they prepared some Beast Meat Teppanyaki?” 

“Really?” A spark of something hopeful entered saddened green eyes as the side of her mouth twitched up in a small smile. Much better.

He teased, “Would I lie to you?” She lifted an eyebrow in challenge and he grabbed her hand to loop it through his arm with a nervous chuckle. “Alright, don’t answer that. Come on, let’s eat.”

They got there early, before the lunch rush, so the dining hall was mostly empty as they took their seats. Ingrid was eating her meal with the type of vigor that told him she was indeed upset, so he let her eat her fill, offering her the portion of his pheasant that he didn’t eat on top of her own serving of the teppanyaki. He had plans to cook with Dedue later, anyway, so it wasn’t like he’d be going hungry. She took it with a look of suspicion, but eventually forgot about it as she dipped it in the berry sauce and released a pleased hum.

He made small talk mostly. Ingrid was a bit like Felix, where you had to be patient and gentle in order to coax out what was actually wrong. However, his childhood friends differed in the way they reacted beforehand. Felix’s tell was his signature standoffishness, but Ingrid was another puzzle entirely. Ingrid was the type to shut everything away, packing it all down tight as she threw herself into her responsibilities with a scary amount of dedication. 

It had been especially present lately with her devotion to His Highness since they returned to the monastery. She and Gustave had been watching out for the disgruntled prince, trying to convince him to eat every once a while, and attempting to quell his unending desire to march to Enbarr immediately in the pursuit of Edelgard’s head. Dedue’s arrival seemed to have lessened the strain, and Dimitri’s mood seemed to be getting better with his old vassal’s presence, but he wondered if the prince had said something to upset Ingrid. The guy had a habit of pushing people’s buttons lately. 

Outwardly, it seemed that Dimitri was simply being cruel, but Sylvain had lashed out at the people he loved most enough to see that the prince was striving to drive them all away. Why, he couldn’t be sure, but the knowledge didn’t make Dimitri’s treatment of Byleth and everyone else any easier to swallow.

He leaned his head to his hand, elbow propped on the table, and watched her gobble down her food. He had his same innocent smile plastered on his face as he offered, “I already finished my chores for the day. Want to go for a ride when you’re done eating?” Going for a ride always used to lift both of their spirits when they were young. She took him on more than a few when Miklan had said or done something to unsettle him, and he had waited in Galatea for weeks after Glenn’s death, keeping the horse Glenn had gifted her company until she was ready to come out of her room again.

Perhaps a ride would help her this time, as well.

Her eyes narrowed somewhat as she pointed her fork menacingly at him. “You’re being weird.” 

“Weird?” He put his hand to his chest in mock-offence and gave his best pouty face. “Is it weird to spend time with one of my oldest friends?” Ingrid’s eyebrow traveled further up her forehead as she evaluated him as if trying to puzzle out what his true intentions were. Had it truly been long enough since he’d spent quality time with Ingrid to warrant such suspicion? The thought made his fake pout turn into a real frown.

“Look… I know we haven’t been spending a bunch of time together—”

In a tired tone, she interjected, “We’re in the middle of a war, Sylvain.” She sighed, and some of the tension in her shoulders seemed to ease. “We’ve both been busy. There’s no need for an apology.”

He shook his head, suddenly realizing that he’s been a really shitty friend lately. How could he leave her high and dry like that? Sure, he had his issues, but Ingrid was one of his oldest friends! Fuck, he could be so fucking selfish and self-centered sometimes. Guilt tinged his words as he insisted, “No, there is. I’ve been so wrapped up in other things,” _or rather people, ones named Felix and Byleth_ , “that I haven’t been there for you.”

“I don’t need you to be there for me,” Ingrid insisted, though not unkindly. She had something of a tired smile on her face as she added, “I meant what I said. We’re at war, you have Felix now, and we’ve all been working extra hard to try and take some of the pressure off the Professor. There’s no need for an apology, I promise. You’re beating yourself up over nothing.”

He wasn’t so sure about that, but nevertheless, he reached over the table to lightly squeeze her hand before pulling his back. “I really am here, though. You know, if you need me to be there for you, or if you just want to talk. I’m sure watching over His Highness isn’t an easy task.” Her features pinched before she took the last bite of her food. “I’ve been there for a few of his interactions with Byleth and…” she slowly met his gaze as he paused, looking for the right words, “I just want to make sure he’s not being especially cruel to you or anything. You don’t deserve that, especially after all the time you’ve put in trying to help him lately.”

She stood abruptly and he worried that he had pushed too far, but she looked off to the side as she said, “I’m fine, really… Though, a ride does sound nice.” He tried not to smile too widely as he quickly got to his feet and followed her as she strode off in the direction of the stables. 

They didn’t go far—it wasn’t safe to go too far from the monastery proper—and they couldn’t really talk with the fact that Ingrid brought her pegasus and ended up flying most of the way, but eventually she shouted to stop here and dived back toward the ground. She had picked out a nice little cliffside area with a pretty view of the trees and foliage in the scenery down below. The area around the monastery was still especially lush after whatever it was that Byleth did in the Red Canyon. He even spotted an apple tree as he dismounted, and he walked over to pick a few juicy-looking ones before making his way over to where Ingrid was sitting on a log, looking out over the view.

She took the apple he offered with a soft smile before turning to look back out. He sat beside her, eating his own as he waited. ( _They were perfect. Byleth is magical. Obviously._ ) He could tell that she wanted to talk, but he figured he’d wait until she was ready. 

Barely above a whisper she said, “You know His Highness talks to Glenn sometimes…” She took a bite of her apple and stared off at the horizon. “He thinks Glenn is demanding he take revenge for his death. I can tell. He pleads and pleads with him and King Lambert to give him a moment of silence. He insists that he’ll give them Edelgard’s head so they can find peace.”

He tentatively put a hand on her back and felt a little better when she leaned into him slightly. “I don’t… I refuse to believe that Glenn would demand such a thing from him. I refuse to believe that Glenn would haunt him to the point of madness.” 

She cut off with a bite of her lip. After a moment she guiltily whispered, “We shouldn’t be going to Enbarr. We should be marching to Fhirdiad. We should be taking back our home. He’s forgotten his people… he’s forgotten _us_.” The desperation in the last word was enough to make his heart break in his chest. 

“I chose to serve His Highness long ago, for the man I knew him to be. I wished to stand by his side and uphold his ideals. But now… seeing him like this, I find myself questioning. And then… then I hate myself for questioning. I ask myself what Glenn would have done—would he have stood by as I am, or would he have done whatever it took to correct the path His Highness is following? The duty and pride of being a knight demand that you follow orders, regardless of your own feelings. Felix says that I merely romanticize blind obedience, but loyalty to my commander is part of the ideal that I have strived to uphold. To question His Highness now is to question everything I believe!”

“I feel so… lost.” She threw her apple to the side and dropped her head to her hands. “I wonder if I truly have what it takes to become a true knight, but it is what I have always wanted. Without fulfilling that dream—without being a knight—I’ve been asking myself where my place is in the world.”

He rubbed her shoulder consolingly as he began, “I’ve always admired you so much, Ingrid.” She shot him a disbelieving look, and he chuckled. “No really. You’ve always been such a brave and loyal person, ever since we were kids. You were always ready to stand up for whomever or whatever you believed in. If you truly don’t wish to be a knight, that’s your decision—as is if you do wish to pursue that dream. But, in my opinion, questioning His Highness doesn’t make you less of a knight, it only makes you human.”

“I know you ask yourself what Glenn would have done, and to be honest, I think we all do. But… with everything that’s been happening the last few years, sometimes I wonder.” He turned to stare off into the distance, avoiding Ingrid’s gaze. “You know… we’re older than Glenn ever got to be. He pursued his dream, worked hard almost every day of his life, and in the end… he sacrificed himself for His Highness when he was still so young. We always saw him as older and wiser, but sometimes I find myself wondering if Glenn would have questioned what he wanted once or twice, if he’d had the time or the opportunity to do so. We’ve put him on this pedestal, but really, he was just a kid… just like we were when this war started.”

He looked back to Ingrid and found her frowning, staring down at the ground with her eyebrows furrowed. “I don’t mean to say that he wasn’t virtuous and noble and I don’t mean to take away from what he did that day. It was a selfless, brave decision and I respect him for it. I just don’t want you to think less of yourself because you are evaluating what it is you want, and I certainly don’t want you to put unnecessary pressure on yourself because of Glenn’s memory. He would want you to be happy… and I know that because I want you to be happy.”

Ingrid wiped her hands over her eyes as she teased, “When did you become wise?” He chuckled and rubbed at the back of his neck, a witty retort on the tip of his tongue when she sighed, “You and Felix… I was surprised at first, but now that I think about it, you’ve always been special to each other. We were all friends, but you two…” she paused with a wistful sigh, “you were always something different. Something special. You’ve grown. Even Felix has changed. I saw him having lunch with his mother and father in the courtyard the other day… and he didn’t even look that miserable.” She chuckled wryly, shaking her head.

“As much as I would love to take credit for that—and you know that I would—that development was all Felix and Byleth.” Ingrid’s expression became pinched, but when he raised an eyebrow it quickly smoothed out and she looked away. He nudged her with his elbow as he prodded, “What?”

Genuine concern twisted Ingrid’s features as she hesitantly stammered, “I… I doubt Felix would ever _hurt_ you, but does that ever… I don’t know… worry you?” 

“Does what worry me?”

“Well… it’s very obvious that Felix has always had a… well a _high regard_ for the Professor.”

He chuckled a bit, genuinely touched and simultaneously weirded out by the fact that Ingrid was even remotely worried that Felix would do something like that behind his back with By. Not that it was unfounded, not knowing the intricacies of their peculiar friendship and affections, but it seemed bizarre that Felix would ever be the one suspected of being unfaithful when his swordsman was in a relationship with _him_ —the well-known philanderer. 

Besides, if Felix could be with Byleth—could have her for the rest of his days—he would hardly have any grounds to object to his swordsman leaving him behind. He’d choose Byleth over himself, too. There was no contest. Why be with him, when you could be with Byleth?

His heart ached as he lightly teased, “Doesn’t everyone?”

She flushed and shook her head. “Yes, but Felix doesn’t hold many people in high regard, not to mention he’s essentially sworn himself to her instead of to His Highness. Not that such a thing was unexpected, but it’s still…” she trailed off, looking uncomfortable.

He assured her, “Felix found what he believes in. He believes in Byleth, and that belief is helping him grow. It might seem odd, but he’s trying to find out who he wants to be and what he wants just like you are… Just like all of us, really. I appreciate the concern, but there’s no need to worry about little old me.” Heaven knows he’d already have some random wife waiting for him at the end of the war anyway, if Felix did decide to leave him for Byleth. Maybe they would even let him continue to be their friend if he played it cool. He could probably do that… right?

He slung an arm over her shoulder and leaned his head down to hers as he sing-songed, “I always suspected you loved me, Ingrid.”

She elbowed him lightly, but didn’t make any efforts to escape from their little half hug. “Of course, I do. As much as you’ve been an _utter pain,_ ” he chuckled and noticed her little smirk, “you’ll always be one of my best friends.” She sighed deeply, the playfulness leaving her before she uttered, “I don’t want to lose anyone else. I want to protect everyone, including His Highness. I... I still believe in him.”

He squeezed her tightly before letting her go. “There’s my Ingrid.” She rolled her eyes, but he relished the fact that she looked a lot lighter than she had when they arrived. “You know I’m always here if you need to talk, right? You don’t have to do any of this by yourself.”

She smiled softly and patted his hand. “Thanks.”

He looked out at the horizon before jumping to his feet. “Shit! I have a cooking lesson with Dedue I’m supposed to be at right now.”

She rushed toward her pegasus as she said, “Well, let’s get you back then.”

They found Felix at the stables when they arrived and his swordsman approached as he took of his horse’s saddle. “Ashe told me you guys were going for a ride,” he said, something in his tone off as he did so.

“Yup! Just catching up,” he easily quipped. He wasn’t going to say anything if Ingrid didn’t want him to. 

Ingrid sighed, “I was having a rough day and Sylvain offered a short ride.” 

Felix’s eyebrows pinched in the center as he dug the toe of his boot in the dirt. “Do you… want to come spar with me?” 

Ingrid rolled her eyes as she insisted, “I’m fine, Felix.”

His swordsman clicked his tongue and looked off to the side as he indignantly grumbled, “I don’t care about that, I just want to spar.” The slight flush along his cheekbones said differently though, and he had to resist the urge to drag his boyfriend further into the stall and kiss the living daylights out of him. 

He had a sneaking suspicion Felix had only come out here because he was worried that one of them was upset.

“Well, I have a cooking lesson to get to,” he chirped, waving a hand in farewell as he turned to leave, “Be good you two!” 

Felix groused, “When aren’t we?” at the same time Ingrid shouted, “Yes, because we’re the ones who need to be told to be good,” and he let out an amused chuckle as he stuffed his hands in his pockets and strolled toward the dining hall.

Whatever happened in the future… he would be alright.

Probably.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Things were going so well for Byleth, but then Count Gloucester had to go and throw a wrench in the perfect plan! What a JERK! We'll have to see how this affects the war going further, and the future of House Gloucester.
> 
> Sylvain is my sweet insecure boy that I just want to love on. He still has some insecurity issues, but he always goes out of his way to look out for others. Also I love Ingrid with the boys, and I wanted to throw some of that in. Ingrid has so much potential as a character when you break it down. I hope you guys enjoyed all of that. 
> 
> Now for the bad news... 
> 
> I'm going on hiatus because this is the last completed chapter I had in my reserves and the burnout is REAL this time. Even trying to type has proved nearly impossible, and I think my brain is just absolutely fried. I'm not sure when I'll be back, so sorry if it's a while. The next few chapters are intense, so I'll try my best to get back to everything as soon as I've had a minute to breathe.
> 
> Sorry to disappoint you guys. Thanks for all of the support thus far. You guys are the best!


	33. Please, Please, Please, Let Me Get What I Want

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Chapter Title from "Let Me Get What I Want" by The Smiths (Honestly one of the saddest songs ever in my opinion. Don't know why.)
> 
> Byleth and Claude begin to make plans on how to handle Count Gloucester's betrayal, and have an important conversation. Felix and Sylvain... also have an important conversation. Really this is just some nice character development. *shrugs*
> 
> Content warning: Mild sexual content at the end of the chapter. It's pretty tame, but I figure it's worth the warning.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi guys! Did you miss me? Did you miss me? I missed you. A lot. Also this fic. 
> 
> That break was way longer than I wanted but there's some stuff going on in my personal life and well.... It's hard to dissociate and write a fic when there's stuff going on. Anyway! I have the next few chapters done so I wanted to start updating again for you guys. I missed your comments and stuff, and I missed sharing so here we go! 
> 
> A chapter!
> 
> Right now...
> 
> Thanks for reading guys! I really appreciate you. <3

~Byleth~

After she and the other Deer had finished dinner, she went back to her room and waited. She waited and waited, pacing the guest room as she wondered what was happening in the Conference Room. 

Would the other Great Lords rescind their offers of troops and supplies because of Gloucester’s actions? Would Gloucester really sell out the Alliance to Edelgard like that? Why? Was Lorenz okay? Why did he go with his father? Lorenz seemed so set on helping her. He _swore_ he would help her. And what of the Great Bridge? She had planned out the numbers with Seteth before they marched, so she knew there were plenty of Knights of Seiros posted there, but there certainly weren’t enough soldiers to fend off an attack from Edelgard and Gloucester _at the same time_.

She felt useless, aimlessly pacing around her guest quarters. She should be at the monastery, or at the Great Bridge, rallying troops or planning their next strike. She hated not knowing what was going on. She hated being stuck here, doing nothing. 

She also couldn’t help feeling anxious about the fact that those masked mages likely knew where she was now. Here, she didn’t have a ward to prevent them from warping directly into her quarters. She didn’t have someone with her, and she didn’t know much about her surroundings. If she were to be ambushed again, her chances of getting out unscathed or without being captured weren’t great. Every creak of the floorboards outside her door had her hand on the Sword of Moralta on her hip, and her eyes panned to every corner of the room as she grew more and more anxious. She considered going and staying with Catherine, but Claude had asked her to wait for him.

Finally, after hours of waiting, a knock sounded at the door. Hand still on the hilt of the Sword of Moralta, she went to open it, and found the servant that had conversed with Claude in the dining room earlier. He bowed as he announced, “Lord Riegan requests your presence in Conference Room, Your Grace.”

She nodded. “Of course.” She was no longer in her fancy attire, but she was certain that the current circumstances would make her appearance the furthest thing from the Great Lords minds, especially if they were summoning her at this hour.

The air was grave as she entered the room. Holst’s hands were rhythmically clenching and relaxing atop the table, Count Ordelia’s face was pale and drawn, and Margrave Edmund’s hair was mussed and his eyes tired. Claude’s smile was false as he turned to greet her. “Lady Byleth, the Roundtable has come to a decision, but we would appreciate your input.”

“How can I help?”

Claude stood and handed her a document, which she combed over quickly. Her eyes widened as she read the report. “Edelgard’s gathering troops at Fort Merceus. She’s planning to lead them herself?” She looked back up at Claude, feeling a little disbelieving. “We could end the war in one battle. This could be our chance!”

“You will find that it is not that simple, I’m afraid,” droned Margrave Edmund, massaging his temples, “for there is still the matter of Count Gloucester’s underhanded dealings with the Emperor.”

“Right,” she mumbled, looking back at the document. Gloucester lands stood between their current position and the Great Bridge of Myrrdin. Not to mention the fact that she would have to deal with Gloucester forces in order to march her army from the monastery as well. There was no distraction that would keep the Count from confronting them this time around.

“That’s why we’re going to march on the bastard,” Holst announced, voice grave.

“March on Gloucester?” She looked to Claude in confirmation, who nodded, lips thin.

“We don’t have a choice. There is no doubt in my mind that Her Royalness is intentionally drawing us out.” He leaned over a map situated on the table and tapped his finger upon a landmark, drawing her eye. “The only location where three forces of this size could clash is…”

She sadly finished, “Gronder.” Claude nodded, looking down at the map, rather than at her. Five years ago, she conversed with the house leaders, congratulating them on their efforts in the mock battle. She hugged all three of them as they spoke about never having a repeat of the Battle of the Eagle and Lion. And now this… 

Claude continued, “We can’t risk having Gloucester interfere or attack from the rear, so we’re going to have to take him out of the equation.”

“Out of the equation…” she raised a questioning eyebrow.

“We’re hoping it doesn’t come to that,” Count Ordelia interjected, likely realizing what it was she was asking. She _was_ a mercenary after all. “Count Gloucester is nothing if not power hungry, but I doubt even he would risk his life over this.”

She blurted, “You mean to allow him his seat at the Round Table?” unthinkingly, and received a scathing glare from Margrave Edmund.

“That is a matter for us to decide, Lady Byleth.” 

“Of course, of course,” she dipped her head and looked back down at the map. “What if I have my troops march from the monastery and help you take on Gloucester?”

“That’s what I was hoping you would say,” Claude said, forcing the conversation back to the matter at hand. “The Deer and I will march toward Gloucester, while you and your forces march on him from the monastery. Surrounded, he’ll have no choice but to surrender. All the while, Ordelia, Edmund, and Riegan forces, will begin marching south,” he indicated the map, “to cross the Airmid via the smaller bridges in Ordelia territory once the Deer and I are done handling Gloucester. That way, Alliance forces can approach the Empire’s forces from the east, while your forces approach from the north. Her Royalness will have to fight a two-front battle.” 

She furrowed her brows in thought. “It’s a sound plan, but are you sure you want me to go back to the monastery and march with my troops to take on Gloucester?”

He raised his gaze to look at her quizzically. “Isn’t that what you would prefer?” 

It was likely that Gloucester would be expecting them, and there was still the matter of the “emissaries”—the dark mages. Would they draw in more forces to aid Gloucester? Would they have Demonic Beasts at their disposal? Not to mention any other monstrosities they could use against the Deer. 

She shook her head. “Catherine and I will stay with you. Those mages Count Gloucester has with him are not to be underestimated, and we have more experience with fighting them. There is also the possibility of Demonic Beasts, and our Relics would come in handy.”

Claude’s lips thinned. “You’ve got a point, and the route we’ll be taking is already fairly treacherous, so I can’t say the help wouldn’t be appreciated.”

“What do you mean?”

“There have been reports of beasts attacking travelers along this route for years now,” he explained, voice heavy with stress as he indicated the route they would be marching. “We’ve been making efforts to find out the cause—”

“The Wandering Beast is the cause,” Margrave Edmund indignantly grumbled, making it obvious that this was a point he had made many times before.

She asked, “What is the Wandering Beast?”

Margrave Edmund’s voice took on an ominous tone, almost the tone of one telling a ghost story. “A giant, talking Demonic Beast that wanders the forests of the Alliance, searching for its next victims. It is said that it can even control the other beasts.”

Holst patronizingly chuckled, “It’s a wives tale meant to keep children from wandering into the forests, Margrave Edmund, nothing more. There are certainly beasts, but it’s nothing that the kids couldn’t handle.” 

The Margrave bristled, “You only think that way because Goneril territory does not suffer its endless attacks as Edmund does!”

“Gentlemen, please,” Claude interjected, looking for all the world like he was resisting the urge to roll his eyes, “we have been at this for hours. Perhaps we should retire for the evening and resume discussions tomorrow morning.”

“An excellent idea,” Count Ordelia sighed, already standing from his seat. “Good evening, gentlemen.” Margrave Edmund was still hissing at Holst about the validity of the stories as they followed Ordelia out the door. 

As soon as they were gone, she turned to Claude and asked, “Is there any merit to this Wandering Beast tale?”

Claude sighed and leaned back against the edge of the table with his arms crossed. “During the Academy days, Tomas—or Solon or whatever his name was—slipped me an ancient record that said Nemesis actually had eleven Elites.”

Alarm slipped into her tone as she asked, “Eleven?” and Claude’s eyes became evaluative. 

He rolled his shoulder as he elaborated, “I read it shortly before you told me about Miklan, actually, which is interesting because it’s rumored that this ‘forgotten hero’ turned into a Demonic Beast. It said that Maurice, the eleventh hero, overused his Crest’s power and his Relic, and he lost control.” He ran a hand through his hair as he sighed, “Nowadays there’s multiple tales about the Wandering Beast. Some say that those that bear the ‘Crest of the Beast’ turn into a giant Demonic Beast at night to kill innocent people, while others say that the Wandering Beast is just a supercharged Demonic Beast that can control other beasts.”

He shook his head. “I’ve sent people looking for it, and I’ve scoured every book on the Elites I could find, but I’ve never found any other mention of this Maurice guy. I can’t say I’m not curious, but we don’t have any evidence to indicate he existed in the first place. I tend to side with Holst on it being a wives’ tale…” his eyebrows drew together before he muttered, "...to cover up some nefarious meddling with trade routes, but that's a issue for another day."

She was willing to believe that if Solon had given Claude this book with information about an eleventh Elite that there was truth to it, especially after finding out the truth about the Immaculate One. She wondered if Those Who Slither in the Dark have been passing down the true history of what happened this whole time. Either way, they seemed to know far more than she did, which was distressing. She really needed to sit down and get the full history from Cichol, preferably without running out on the conversation again. It was hard to learn all of these things, but she needed to know everything if she was truly going to have a shot of stopping the true enemy in all of this.

Claude slid along the table’s edge until his side was pressed against hers. “You look awfully thoughtful there, Teach.”

Tearing her eyes away from the map on the table, she glanced up at him. He looked exhausted, with dark bags under his eyes and a slight slouch in his shoulders. He looked like he held the weight of the world on those shoulders—or at least the weight of a country. “You seem exhausted. Don’t you want to retire for the evening like the others?”

“That depends,” he drawled, gazing down at her with a look she couldn’t quite decipher, “Did you want to talk to me about something?” She stiffened and looked back down at the table, avoiding eyes of verdant green. Claude sighed and pushed himself up to sit on the table. “Something is bothering you. Now, you don’t have to—”

She clenched her eyes shut and blurted, “Did you see the dragon? The day the monastery fell?”

In a startled chuckle he answered, “See it? Omar went nuts when it appeared. He nearly dropped me right out of the sky.” He paused and leaned over in what was likely an attempt to get her to look at him. “Why?”

Barely above a whisper she answered, “It was Rhea.”

He laughed loudly at first, though as he stared, it slowed to an awkward chuckle. “You’re joking… right?” He continued to analyze her as she worried her lip between her teeth. “Except, that’s not your joking face.”

She huffed a breath of laughter and quipped, “I have a joking face?”

“Yup! That one you make when you use that special brand of Teach dry humor that I enjoyed over Almyran Pine Needle tea,” Claude beamed, though when her expression remained the same, he quickly became serious again. “But… you’re serious?”

“I’m serious. I… the day I fell… it was because I went after Rhea. She was getting overwhelmed by Demonic Beasts and I panicked. She was the only one who had the answers for what I am, and what she did to me, and I just…” Claude placed a hand on her back and rubbed it softly as her breathing became shallow. 

She shook the heavy emotions that always came along with discussing the day of the fall of the monastery away and continued, “Anyway, that’s not why I brought it up. There’s more. Rhea… she’s older than she seems.” She met his gaze as she added, “She used to go by Seiros.”

“Seiros?” Claude’s voice was low and full of confusion, “Like… Saint Seiros?” 

She nodded. “She is a child of the goddess. She is Sothis’ daughter.”

“What…” he shook his head and restarted, “How do you know this?”

“I’ve been having these… visions… ever since I woke up.”

Claude’s eyebrows pulled in at the center as he dropped his hand. “Visions…”

“I think…” she sighed and looked over at him, “I think they are Sothis’ memories.” Claude’s jaw worked soundlessly as he stared blankly at her. “At first, it was flashes of images. But they’ve been happening more and more often. The things that I’ve seen, Claude, you wouldn’t believe it.”

“I think the line for things that I wouldn’t believe has traveled quite a bit since meeting you,” he quipped, though his voice was tight. She gave a mirthless chuckle and ran a hand through her hair, feeling anxious under the weight of his stare. “So, the archbishop is actually a thousand-year-old dragon who has likely been pulling strings in Fodlan through her seat of power as head of the Church of Seiros essentially since the country was founded…” He huffed a heavy breath and ruffled his hair. “That’s… a lot to process.”

She huffed, “Welcome to the last few months of my life.”

Claude pushed off the table and began pacing the length of the room. “The Church has been using its influence— _Seiros_ has been wielding its influence for centuries, and you still plan on giving her the position of Archbishop when she returns?”

She wearily sighed, “I’m not giving it to her…” 

He let out a harsh bark of laughter and exclaimed, “You’re the one who is blessed by the goddess! You’re seeing her memories, she used to live in your _head_ —”

She snapped, “So?” She shouldn’t be short with him, he couldn't know how all of this came about. He couldn’t know that all of that only happened because Seiros had made it happen

“So you are!” He rushed toward her and grabbed her hands. “Just imagine what you could do with this position. It would be so easy. You’ll be the one who rallied everyone together, ended the war, and saved all of Fodlan. We’ll force Rhea to cede the position—”

“I don’t want it,” she insisted, carefully slipping her hands from his grasp. “I never wanted any of this.”

“You think I wanted any of this?” Claude gestured to himself and the rest of the room before giving an exasperated huff. “You think I wanted to be born of two worlds? To be an outsider? To be hated for that very fact? You think I wanted the attempts on my life from the day I was born? You think I wanted to grow up scared and _alone_?” His voice strained on the last word and she stepped forward to try and touch him, but he shifted away, quickly recomposing himself.

“You think I wanted to come here and find out that it was no different in Fodlan? You think I wanted to find out that the people here view outsiders as a beast of sorts? You think I wanted to have the goals and ambitions I have? I don’t. The burden of these dreams is enormous, but I can’t continue to live in a world where people like me are despised, just for being different.”

“When my grandfather requested my presence here—when he offered me the chance to be his heir—I jumped on it, despite my mother’s protests. When I entered the Officer’s Academy, my plan was to unify the Alliance, and then all of Fodlan, to bring a new set of values to this land of mine. After that, I’d expand that vision to the rest of the world. Break down the walls and let a new perspective come rushing in! Start all over!”

He grabbed her hands and held them to his chest as he passionately insisted, “Don’t you understand? You could help me change things! I wouldn’t have to do it on my own! You could be the Archbishop to establish a new set of values for the people, values that don’t exclude anyone for being different. You have never judged people for where they are from. You’ve never judged me even though you knew I wasn’t from Fodlan—” he paused and looked away before tremulously adding, “—even though you know now… where I’m from.”

“Claude,” she pulled her hands away, and the action made Claude cave in on himself a little more before she reached up to hold each side of his face, “it doesn’t matter to me where you are from. You’ll always be my friend, no matter what. This dream you have, it’s a selfless and beautiful one, and I would love nothing more than to help you. But… I don’t know what will happen to me or to Rhea when this war is through.”

He warily asked, “What do you mean?”

“I mean…” she swallowed around the lump that was forming in her throat, “I agree that Seiros has a lot to answer for, far more than you can even fathom, but I can’t promise that I will take on the role of Archishop when the war ends. I’m…” she dropped her gaze to his cravat as she whispered, “I’m like Seiros now. I haven’t aged since that day in the Sealed Forest, and I won’t, even as you and the others do.”

Claude’s eyes blew wide as he croaked, “What?”

She quietly mumbled, “When Sothis and I became one, it changed more than just my hair and eye color.”

She could practically hear everything clicking into place in his mind. “That’s why you said you couldn’t marry… That’s why you looked so frightened…” He pulled her into an embrace as he exhaled, “Gods, Teach.”

She pulled away to look up at him. “Thank you, for finally trusting me enough to tell me about your ambitions. I’ll do everything I can to help you, I just don’t know what the future holds right now.”

He brushed hair away from her face as he tentatively asked, “How long have you known?”

“A few weeks now,” she paused, “though I think I’ve suspected since I woke up in that river. Surviving the fall into the ravine and being wounded by the Sword of the Creator by sleeping for five years?” She chuckled dryly and shook her head. “That’s not normal. I’ve always known I wasn’t human, I just didn’t understand what I was until now.”

Claude frowned before leaning his head against hers. “You say that as if it’s a negative thing, that you aren’t human. It’s the thing that’s brought you back to us, right? It’s the thing that makes you so special.”

She buried her face in his shoulder before mumbling, “It’s the thing that’s going to make me watch you all grow old and die.”

“I’m not saying that it doesn’t come with burdens,” he carefully said, stroking her hair, “I just… I don’t want you to think that you have to isolate yourself because of this. We can be outsiders together, remember?”

When all she did was burrow her face further into his shoulder, he hugged her and quietly asked, “Do Sylvain and Felix know?” She shook her head mutely, dreading even the idea of it. “You should tell them, Teach.”

“I can’t…”

He tenderly whispered, “Why? You told me?” She knew he was right. It had been hard, but she had told Claude. He was also right that she needed to tell Felix and Sylvain, but she just… couldn’t. Even the thought made her stomach twist up in knots, and her chest feel so tight it made it hard to breathe. Why was it different? Because of her feelings for them? Because she was scared of what they would think of her? Of the fact that she wasn’t human?

He sighed into her hair and held her waist just a little bit tighter. “We should probably try to get some rest. There’s a lot to plan tomorrow.”

She pulled back and said, “I don’t think I’ll be able to sleep. Those mages know where I am now, and I don’t have a ward to protect me like I do in the Archbishop’s quarters at the monastery.”

She recognized Claude’s scheming face before he took her hand and pulled her toward the door whispering, “I have an idea.”

They sneaked through the estate as they had the first night, avoiding the service staff, before eventually breaking out into the crisp night air. Claude pulled her along by the hand until they reached the wyvern aviary, and then opened his arms with a large grin, as if presenting her with something. 

She glanced back in the direction of the main house and asked, “But… what about the others? What if something happens? What if they notice we’re gone?”

“Nardel will know where to look for me if something happens, and if anyone questions us, we’ll just say we went for a morning flight.” He sprinted forward before leaping up and managing to grab the ledge above his head where Cassie sat watching him with golden eyes. He grunted with effort before finally managing to swing his leg up and scrambling into Cassie’s roosting area. He gestured for her to come up as he insisted, “Come on, we’ll be safe here. Those mages won’t know to look for either of us here, and Cassie will sense anyone coming before we ever could.”

After one last glance at the house, she looked up at the high ledge, where Claude was kneeling down and reaching down for her. He grinned and promised her, “I’ll catch you, don’t worry.”

She took a deep breath before doing what Claude had and charging forward. She bent her knees and used all the force she had to jump up, realizing a second too late that she had far more force than she needed. Claude’s eyes widened as he quickly moved out of the way, but not fast enough. She stumbled as her feet hit the side of the ledge and she toppled forward onto Claude, who gave a highly surprised yelp on impact.

He stared up at her with wide eyes as he mumbled, “That had to be at least nine feet.”

She stammered, “I don’t… That was… I’m not…”

Not noticing her discomfort, he prattled off, “What else can you do? I know after the Sealed Forest you said you felt stronger, and you were certainly faster, but how else did your change—” Claude cut off with a groan as Cassie used her wing to cover them and pull them both against her side, crooning as she did so. He indignantly grumbled, “I think Cassie says it’s time for sleeping now, questions later.”

She chuckled awkwardly as she shifted, allowing Claude to be pressed against Cassie’s belly and using his chest as a pillow. He kept both arms wrapped around her to keep her close. It was far from comfortable, what with only hay and wood beneath them, but it was warm, and the sounds of Cassie’s deep breaths and Claude’s heartbeat were somewhat comforting. At least she felt safer here than she had in her guest quarters.

Claude pressed a kiss to the top of her head before whispering, “We’ll figure everything out, Teach, I promise.”

She hummed softly in acknowledgement, not getting her hopes up, and nestled closer to him, entwining their legs. It seemed as if she was having more and more of these moments where she was realizing she doesn’t know what she is capable of. It’s terrifying. 

She really needed to speak with Cichol.

She whispered, “Goodnight, Claude.”

“Goodnight, Teach.”

~Felix~

He and Yuri had been training for about two hours when the doors to the training grounds opened. His body was sore, even though he had been getting a lot better over the last handful of days training with the trickster. He was still working with his throwing knives, which proved to be a bit harder than he thought, but he was getting much better at sensing where Yuri was warping and responding accordingly. He didn’t have nearly as many magical burns as he’d had after their first training session.

Yuri stopped as soon as he caught a glimpse of who had entered, easily dodging out of the way of the swing of his practice sword with a backwards one-handed cartwheel—the guy was annoyingly agile. He turned to see what had distracted Yuri, and found Shamir watching them.

“You’re back,” Yuri drawled, flipping lavender tresses over his shoulder, “Is that a good thing, or a bad thing?”

“Not great,” was Shamir’s short answer. “Any word on Byleth?”

“Not a peep,” Yuri nonchalantly answered, walking over to rack his training sword. He sounded casual about it, but Felix knew that everyone was uneasy about her absence. Seteth had been quietly furious about her leaving without consulting him when they returned to the monastery, Ingrid was constantly whining about the fact that the boar wasn’t eating or sleeping, and even Yuri seemed to be more wound up than usual—though that may have been because word was slowly getting around about his past with Bernadetta.

Shamir announced, “This information can’t wait.” She turned on her heel to walk back out the door. Yuri immediately followed, and after re-racking his training sword, he ran out after the two of them. Shamir had been in Empire territory scouting—he knew that. If she was back already, and the intel wasn’t great, he wanted to know what was going on.

Seteth ended up sending Cyril to gather the others, and eventually all of them were sitting in the Cardinal Room, with his father, Shamir, Gustave, and Seteth standing at the head of the table where Byleth normally stood. The absence was greatly felt. 

_Where the hell is she?_ They were coming up on the two week mark of her being gone, which was when she said she was going to be back. He didn’t like not knowing where she was. If those masked mages found out, she wouldn’t have the protections that she had at the monastery. She would be far more vulnerable, and he wouldn’t be there to help. Not to mention he and Sylvain were still eager to talk to her about… well… _things_ … 

_Feelings_.

“Shamir has returned with the latest report,” Seteth began, immediately quieting the whispered conversations going on around the table, “It would seem the Empire is gathering troops at Fort Merceus.”

“This is undoubtedly in response to us taking the Great Bridge,” Gilbert expressed, his hand thoughtfully cupping his chin.

“Their numbers are more than double ours,” Shamir reported, her face not betraying how she felt about that fact in any way, “and it’s rumored that the emperor herself is planning to lead them.” The wood of the boar’s seat cracked as he grasped it with white knuckles.

“A-and we still haven’t heard from the Professor?” Ashe asked, his stammer giving away his nervousness. He couldn’t blame the silver-haired archer, the odds were surely stacked against them.

“Not presently,” Seteth answered, his lips thin. 

Annette chirped with forced cheer, “She’ll get Claude and the rest of the Alliance lords on our side, then we won’t be so outnumbered! If anyone can do it, she can!” She pumped her fist, her features set with her usual determined disposition.

As if the goddess herself was sending them an answer, the doors burst open to reveal a breathless Alliance messenger with a Knight of Seiros at his side. The Alliance messenger scurried toward Seteth and handed him a sealed envelope with Byleth’s Crest pressed in golden-colored wax. “Message from the Archbishop for you, sir.” 

“Thank you.” He turned to the Knight of Seiros and ordered, “Please make sure this gentleman has the proper accommodations to rest before returning to Riegan territory.”

As soon as they left, he anxiously demanded, “Well? What does it say?”

Seteth ignored him, instead focusing as emerald eyes glided left to right across the parchment. “Four of the Great Lords have agreed to provide soldiers and supplies,” there were a few excited murmurs until Seteth read further and added, “though it seems that Count Gloucester has firmly allied himself with the Emperor. Lady Byleth is asking that we march to help Alliance forces subdue Count Gloucester before both of our armies invade Empire territory. She is aware of the forces being gathered in Fort Merceus, and she and Duke Riegan believe that the Emperor is drawing us out to Gronder Field.”

His father put a hand to his chin before musing aloud, “It’s hard to imagine that this decisive battle will take place at Gronder Field. I imagine that place is full of memories for all of you.” He looked away, distantly remembering the fact that Byleth had still been upset with him during the Battle of the Eagle and Lion five years ago. 

Mercedes sadly said, “We won the Battle of the Eagle and Lion back in the day. It seems like a lifetime ago…”

Ashe nodded. “I can’t help but remember, even though I wish I didn’t…”

“Our feast after the battle,” Ingrid added, her voice quiet, “I remember it well. We all had so much fun together.”

Annette exclaimed, “No! Please, stop it! I had finally put all that out of my mind… This isn’t right. They’re our friends! We used to study together. We shouldn’t be fighting them.”

In a tone that was unusually bitter for his normally falsely cheerful partner, Sylvain griped, “Why not march up to Her Majesty and remind her of that? Oh, that’s right… because you want to live to see tomorrow.”

“Luckily, we have most of the Academy on our side. At least we won’t have to fight the Alliance people,” Caspar paused, “Well… other than Lorenz.”

“And Edie, Hubie, and Pet…” Dorothea said, her features twisted with sorrow. He couldn’t imagine how he would feel if Sylvain were being forced to fight for the Empire. He couldn’t imagine drawing a blade against him. Bernadetta wrapped her arms around the brunette and hid her face in her curls.

Dedue’s deep voice sounded out with its usual blind loyalty. “No matter who the enemy is, I will fight for His Highness.”

He turned to the boar and said, “Tell me, boar prince. Do we stand a chance?”

The beast grumbled back, “Who knows…”

He clicked his tongue chidingly as he shook his head. “If we lose, we’ll have died for you. I hope you know that.” The beast didn’t bother to respond, instead turning his face away. Perhaps it was indifference, or perhaps there was still something in there that had the ability to feel ashamed, but he wasn’t going to get his hopes up. Byleth seemed sure that the boar was still Dimitri—still Dima—but she _still_ didn’t understand that Dima disappeared a long time ago.

“That’s enough, Felix,” his father uttered in a sigh, reaching over as Seteth moved to hand him the message from Byleth, “We must focus on the battle ahead.”

The boar stood and in a low voice uttered, “Make your peace before we depart. It’s kill or be killed out there.” He then left the room, leaving the ominous words behind like a suffocating smoke that affected everyone in the room.

His father cleared his throat and seemed to snap everyone out of their pensive thoughts. “Lady Byleth has requested that we march on Gloucester in two days’ time. Aside from the knights that will stay to guard the monastery, the main body of the Knights of Seiros and the Kingdom rebellion forces are to march toward the Great Bridge to ready themselves for the battle at Gronder Field, while the rest of us are ordered to make our way to Gloucester. She expects Gloucester to surrender once he is surrounded, but urges us to use the upmost caution in any case. She asks that we express to you all her desire to march with you, but she is uneasy about the involvement of these dark mages and wishes to be with the Golden Deer that will be facing the bulk of Gloucester’s forces in the case they have some sort of nefarious trick up their sleeve.” 

“I hope Lorenz is alright,” Annette fretted, nervously wringing her fingers.

“It’s likely we’ll have to face him on the battlefield again,” everyone immediately turned to look at him, their eyes sharp, “What? It’s best to prepare ourselves for the possibility.”

“He said he was going to help the Professor,” Dorothea said, her eyebrows furrowed in confusion, “He was practically begging Ferdie to switch to our side! Why would he fight us?”

“He might not feel like he has a choice.” Sylvain’s tone sounded far off as he stared at his hands on the table rather than meeting anyone’s gaze. “His father is probably making all the decisions, and as the heir…” He let the sentence hang, tensing his fingers before sitting back in his chair with a frown. He had no doubt Sylvain was likely pondering what he would do if it were the Margrave. 

“You think he might have to face us against his will because of his ‘duty as a noble’,” Dorothea wryly mused, her features downcast. “That figures.”

He crossed his arms before scoffing, “It sure as hell won’t be Count Gloucester we face on the battlefield.”

“You’re likely right,” his father stated, resigned. The fact that he was a Lord that wasn’t afraid to fight his own battles was one of the things that he truly respected about the old man. “Let us hope that Lady Byleth is correct and their forces will surrender once surrounded. If not…” he paused, gathering the papers and standing to look at everyone sitting around the table, “…we will do what we must.”

Gilbert stood and said, “Let us all go and prepare for the upcoming march.” 

“She was supposed to come back, not send word,” Sylvain sadly muttered as soon as they had all dispersed. They were making their way past the old classrooms slowly, savoring the moment of alone time after the meeting.

He mumbled, “I know,” staring at the ground instead of at Sylvain.

“I get that she wants to be with the Deer if something happens, but…”

“I would rather have her here,” he finished, making Sylvain nod in agreement as he ruffled crimson locks with his fingers. 

“I can’t believe we have to fight Alliance forces directly.”

He gritted his teeth before admitting, “As much as I dislike her being gone, if it weren’t for Byleth’s plan to go to the Roundtable Conference, we wouldn’t stand a chance at Gronder. We might have even been clashing with two armies if we didn’t have an alliance established.”

Sylvain quietly said, “I wonder how Lorenz is doing.”

He raised an eyebrow as he said, “You know you are nothing like Lorenz, right?”

Sylvain turned to him, looking falsely hurt. “Like that self-important windbag? Felix! You wound me by implying I’m anything close!”

He turned to face Sylvain and made sure he held his gaze, stopping in front of the doors to their old classroom. “Even if it was your father that sided with the Empire, you wouldn’t just roll over like Lorenz most likely is.”

“You don’t know that,” Sylvain mumbled, the false façade crumbling once it became clear that he wasn’t falling for it.

“I know _you_ ,” he insisted. “You aren’t just some pawn that your father gets to move around a chess board. You would fight it. Fight _him_!”

“My father is—”

“An asshole,” he interjected, crossing his arms over his chest.

“Well, yeah,” Sylvain wryly chuckled. “But he’s not a man you cross. He’s not a man _I_ cross.” The unease in Sylvain’s features twisted something in his chest. He’d always hated the fact that he couldn’t do anything about Sylvain’s circumstances when he was a kid, but he’d be damned if he wouldn’t do something now. 

“You’ll have to eventually,” he looked around to make sure no one was in the vicinity before lacing the backs of their fingers together, “if this is what you want. If I’m what you want.” 

Insecurity flickered across Sylvain’s handsome features before vanishing behind something soft and far too smitten. It made him want to turn away and hide, but he resisted the urge. “More than I’ve ever wanted anything,” the redhead breathily whispered, leaning in closer. 

He tried to fight off the warmth rising to his cheeks, but figured it was a losing battle. He cleared his throat roughly before managing, “Then you aren’t like Lorenz. You’re better than that. I know you are.”

Sylvain winked as he purred, “And I’m better looking, right?” He flushed further as he shoved at the redhead’s chest, which only made him laugh and grab at his hips to pull him closer. His voice was smooth and low as he whispered, “Come on, won’t you just say it?”

“And stroke your ego?” He snorted derisively and glared off to the side. “Not likely.”

“If you aren’t willing to stroke my ego, I know what else you can—” he shoved Sylvain back harder, pushing him into the old oak doors, and turned on his heel to stride away. “Okay, okay! No more teasing! Promise!” Sylvain grabbed his hand and pulled him back with a goofy grin, peeking around before opening the old classroom doors and pulling him inside. 

The old Academy classrooms had been cleaned up, but they sat mostly in disuse now. There were plans to start teaching the children that were currently living at the monastery in here, but they had been derailed after the woman heading the project turned out to be a spy for the enemy. _Figures_.

“It’s odd how the Academy days feel like yesterday, but also another lifetime ago.” Sylvain was walking over toward the table they most often sat at together, when they weren’t quarreling over one matter or another. Actually, thinking back, they only ever quarreled over Byleth. 

Wow, he was an idiot. Actually, they were _both_ idiots.

He grunted in agreement, his arms crossed over his chest. Sylvain motioned him over and he approached cautiously, not sure why they were even in here in the first place. It was pointless to dwell on the past, he figured Sylvain knew that. 

As soon as he was within arms’ reach, Sylvain grabbed him by the waist and pushed him back against the desk, forcing him up onto it. He huffed in feigned annoyance, but opened his legs to loop them around Sylvain’s hips and tilted his chin up to allow Sylvain’s lips to press against his own. Sylvain then kissed a trail across his jaw as he murmured, “I feel like I’ve hardly seen you the past two weeks.”

He huffed, “I’ve been here the whole time, idiot.”

“You’ve been training the whole time.” As if to prove his point, his hands grasped at a sensitive spot at his lower back and he hissed unintentionally at the pain. Sylvain frowned apologetically before adding, “You’re running yourself ragged.”

He looked toward the door as he said, “I’ve been slacking lately, trying to guard Byleth all the time. I have to use the free time I have while she’s gone.” Sylvain hummed in that way he always does when he thinks he knows the real answer, and the one given wasn’t it. “What?” he snapped, narrowing his eyes.

Sylvain prodded, “Is that all?”

“What do you want me to say? That I hate that she’s gone? You do, too!”

“I do,” Sylvain nodded, expression carefully neutral, but the way he held his waist and raised his eyebrow was prodding for more.

“She’s been with Claude this whole time. Who knows what’s happening?! And now she’s marching with the Deer instead of coming home and marching with us.”

Sylvain frowned slightly before saying, “We’ll be approaching Gloucester from behind. With those mages on Gloucester’s side, we’ll likely be in less danger than the Deer will be.”

“I don’t care.” He sounded like a petulant child. He hated it. 

“So possessive,” Sylvain chuckled, stroking his arms as he leaned forward to kiss him once again. He murmured against his lips, “Should I be jealous that you never get this possessive over me?”

“I’m not possessive,” he groused, crossing his arms. Embarrassment warmed his cheeks and he tried to hide it, but with the way Sylvain chuckled he knew it was a lost cause. It was _different_ with Sylvain. Sylvain didn’t feel anything for the people he flirted with, nor for the people he’d been with in the past. Byleth might not think she’s _in love_ with anyone--might not think herself even capable--but she would give her right arm for any of her former students, and for Yuri and the Wolves. She genuinely loved everybody, and everyone genuinely loved her. Not to mention all of the fear that came from thinking she was dead those five years…

“Mhmm… sure…” Sylvain heaved a sigh and placed his forehead heavily on his shoulder. “You’ll be back with her soon.”

He buried his hand in Sylvain’s hair as he insisted, “ _We_ will. Both of us.”

Sylvain’s voice wavered as he started, “What if…” but he didn’t finish the thought.

His voice came out softer than he intended as he drew Sylvain closer. “What if what?”

“What if we tell her, and she only feels that way about one of us?” That insecurity was back in Sylvain’s voice, and in honey eyes when he pulled Sylvain’s head back to rest their foreheads together. He heard the unspoken, _“What if she only loves you?”_

He hid his face in Sylvain’s neck as he mumbled, “I promised you my future a long time ago, Syl. That’s not changing, no matter what she says.”

“But—”

“But nothing.” He looped his arms around the taller redhead’s neck and crashed his lips inelegantly against Sylvain’s, who hesitated for the briefest moment before kissing him back with equal fervor, soon pressing him backward until he was lying back on the desk. Sylvain groaned into the kiss as their hips met, licking into his mouth to explore further.

He couldn’t see a future for himself without Sylvain, he just couldn’t. Without that sunshine smile, without the kisses he got so lost in, without his best friend, the person he’d had by his side through everything. Having Byleth would mean nothing if he left Sylvain behind. 

Sylvain’s large hand moved from his waist to his stomach, and he unintentionally arched into his touch as it made its way to his belt before he quickly came back to his senses as it was undone. “What… What are you _doing_?”

“Wanna make you feel good,” Sylvain purred, his voice low in his ear sent sparks all the way down to his toes. 

“We’re in,” he cut off with a gasp as Sylvain nibbled at the skin just above his turtleneck, “We’re in the _classroom_.”

“You know how much time I spent fantasizing about you back at the Academy?” Sylvain murmured against his throat. “Flirted with someone who looked like you, only to realize what I was doing when your name was halfway out of my mouth? That vest… that useless belt around your thigh…”

“Syl… Sylvain…” He did _not_ whine. That was… that was _not_ a whine.

Sylvain's hands continued roaming as he continued to murmur in his ear, “Sometimes it felt like you only wore that thing to torture me… Like you _existed_ to torment me. My waking thoughts, my dreams…” 

“Syl…”

“I love you… with all that I am… I want you to be happy— _need_ you to be happy. Even if it’s with By instead of me…”

“W-wait…” he shook the haziness from his brain and pulled Sylvain’s focus to his face. “I _am_ happy. With you.” Sylvain’s responding smile was fake, and he wanted to punch it right off his face. He repeated, “I _am_ happy. With you.”

Sylvain’s tone was all sweet and honeyed as he said, “I’m just saying… I’d pick her over me any day.” It felt like he’d been punched in the gut.

“Sylvain…”

“I’m just saying… you know… it would be fine. I’d be fine. Goddess knows my father probably already has a bride picked out for me anyway for when the war’s over. Well, one other than Byleth that is. I’m sure he’s even got a backup for the backup, so it’s not like I’ll be _alone_ …”

“Sylvain…”

The redhead wasn’t listening to him. His larger frame was starting to tremble above him as he rambled on, his breathing coming in shorter and shorter pants. “You know… I’ve been ready for this for forever. I’ve been expecting it, really. I never thought love would happen for me, and then I was an idiot and I still fell in love. With two people! I mean… me! Two people! My best friends! If that isn’t just a kick in the teeth…”

“Sylvain!” Honey eyes landed on his before filling with tears. “You are _everything_ to me!” Sylvain inhaled sharply and didn’t release it, like he was waiting for something. Like he was waiting for him to laugh and take it back. “Do you hear me? Do you understand? I’m not leaving you behind. Never.”

He still didn’t do anything, didn’t even breathe. “Hear me. Believe me. _Please!_ ”

The tears fell with a choked sob as Sylvain dropped his face to his neck. He buried his hand in Sylvain’s hair and tried to hug him with the other arm but Sylvain was in his stupid armor. He didn’t know what to do. 

Sylvain was apologizing over and over, his voice broken and pleading. He didn’t understand _why_. How long had Sylvain been thinking like that? Since the Academy? Did he really think that he would leave him behind now? After everything they’d been through together? He supposed he’d thought the same. He’d thought that Sylvain would be happier with Byleth—had begged Sylvain to leave him alone if he was just going to leave him anyway. And of course, Sylvain would be the opposite. Of course, Sylvain would take anything he could get. Would tell him that it would be okay if he left. Would assure him that he just wanted him to be happy.

Without meaning to, he grumbled, “You and your stupid self-sacrificing bullshit,” out loud. Sylvain laughed brokenly into his neck and he ran his fingers through his hair the way he’d seen Byleth do it a million times. He wished she were here… she’d know what to do.

“We need to talk to Byleth. We need to just… _know_. Then we can figure everything out. Either way I’m not leaving you. We promised.” Honestly, at this point they just needed her to put them out of their misery. He was done waiting.

Sylvain nodded, his hair tickling his jaw. “Yeah... We promised…”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I swear I'm going to get into Nabatean abilities/traits more soon. I think it's kinda dumb that there are no obvious differences other than the ears. Also you can't tell me there's no difference. We all saw that cutscene in Shambhala where Rhea leap frogs over those stones like it's nothing before transforming. Also... if you haven't... I did warn for spoilers... right? *checks summary for story* I DID!
> 
> Byleth has the power of the Goddess and anime on her side. Come at me!
> 
> Also... Sylvain is handling the fact that he has feelings. Felix is learning how to address feelings in himself and others. Let's all give a round of applause. *polite clapping*


End file.
